


Phoenix Dreams

by enigmaticblue



Series: Phoenix Duology [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written years ago before Ats S5 began to air, and so is incredibly AU. It's also one of my earliest stories, and is experimental in both style and structure. Spike is brought back for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remembering in Dreams

“I know I left too much mess and/destruction to come back again/And I caused nothing but trouble/I understand if you can't talk to me again/And if you live by the rules of "it's over"/  
then I'm sure that that makes sense./Well I will go down with this ship/And I won't put my hands up and surrender/There will be no white flag above my door/I'm in love and always will be/And when we meet/Which I'm sure we will/All that was then/Will be there still/I'll let it pass/And hold my tongue/And you will think/That I've moved on....” ~Dido, “White Flag”

## I

He walked down the street slowly, his pace matching that of the boy’s. They moved hand in hand, and he occasionally looked down, watching as his son carefully avoided every crack in the sidewalk, humming some nonsense tune under his breath. ‘So beautiful,’ he thought.

           

It was late, dangerously late, his experience reminded him, but Ty had been having so much fun at the park, had begged for just a few more minutes so many times, that the sun had begun to set before he knew it. Erin would kill him if she were still around. Their hours had been crazy for the last few months. They’d eaten when they felt like it, slept when they felt like it. Ty no longer had anything resembling a normal bedtime or schedule. But it had been what they both had needed, floating through the last months in a sea of grief. He had needed this time to re-establish himself in the land of the living, to remind himself why it was he still remained.

           

His reasons for being here now were complex and mixed. To anyone who had asked back in Newport, he’d easily explained. The house was too much, the shop was too much: echoes of Erin inhabited every wall, every nook and cranny. Every street he walked down had some memory of her. It had been overwhelming, and he felt the change of scenery would do both he and Ty good. That was the reason he gave out to friends and acquaintances. But in the darkest recesses of his soul, he knew there was more to it than that. The city itself called to him with its own siren song. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say he was being led here by something greater. Erin would have called it fate, and she would have understood in her own way. But her life had held him in the seaside town just as her death had freed him to leave. And so two weeks earlier, he had packed everything up and come here, to L.A., hoping that he would somehow be able to find what he was looking for, even if he had no bloody idea what it might be.

           

He felt their presence before he saw them, and as always wondered if his sixth sense was left over from his previous life or if it was something more. In one swift motion he’d gathered Ty up in his arms and slipped down an alley. He had no weapons (stupid git) and the alley was not going to afford him any. There were three of them and one of him, and he had the boy to protect, so he shoved him behind a pile of garbage.

           

Ty’s eyes were wide with fear as he stared at his father. “Dad?”

           

“Stay here.” There was no room for argument in his tone, in the set of his jaw. He had little hope of saving either of them, but that was neither here nor there.

           

The vampires fanned out across the mouth of the alley, demons emerging as they realized their prey had some idea of what they were and what they were going to do. “Look,” the leader said, sneering. “Our meal was kind enough to bring dessert.” There were appreciative sniggers from the other two, but he didn’t even flinch, just gave a sneer of his own and launched himself into battle. He had nothing but his bare hands (“fists and fangs” echoed in his head), but he took them all on anyway.

           

And he would have lost if he’d remained on his own. The leader tossed him into the wall of the alley, and he was rapidly losing consciousness when two of the vampires exploded into dust. The third soon followed, and the looming form came to stand over him. His subconscious provided the name to go with the face, even though he would have passed the stranger on the street without a second glance. “Angelus?”

 

~~~~~ 

 

To say Angel was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. Buffy had been very specific when she’d said Spike had died. In fact, she’d shed a few tears over him, and Angel had a sneaking suspicion she shed more than a few when away from prying eyes. And while Darla had come back from the dead, somehow Spike’s reappearance was even more startling, maybe because he was at least reasonably human and most definitely not evil.

           

Angel sighed. His life was never simple. He knelt down next to the still figure of his former child and ran careful fingers along his jaw line, finding his pulse strong and steady. He was about to pick him up and leave when he sensed another presence in the alley, also human. And—his enhanced senses told him—very young. “You can come out now,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

           

The boy was perhaps four or five and small for his age, with dark brown hair falling over his forehead. Big blue eyes, the same color as Spike’s, stared at him in fear and wonder as tears spilled silently down round cheeks. He took a small, cautious step forward and looked at Spike, a small sound coming out of his throat. “Dad?”

           

Angel didn’t allow himself time to mull over that little piece of information. “He’s going to be okay,” he assured the kid. “Do you mind if I help him?”

           

The boy stared at him for a long moment, and then said with no little doubt. “My dad told me not to talk to strangers.”

           

Angel smiled slightly. A good policy, unless “dad” happened to be unconscious in an alley. “I’m not exactly a stranger,” he said wryly. “I’ve known your dad for a while now. I’m Angel.”

           

He seemed to consider this for a long moment, and then finally seemed satisfied. “I’m Ty,” he informed the vampire. “I’m five.”

           

“It’s nice to meet you, Ty.” Angel looked at Spike and then sighed again. It looked like he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, which meant he needed to get him out of here before any more vampires decided to try and snack on him. “Come on, let’s get your dad out of here.”

           

Angel picked the still figure up easily, and directed Ty to grab onto his jacket, wanting to be sure the boy was close. There were too many nasties out at night for his liking. Luckily, his apartment was only a few blocks away; he’d sold the Hyperion a while ago, not needing it as headquarters any longer.

           

Taking over Wolfram & Hart had been more successful than he had hoped for, even though there had been a fair number of kinks to work out. They’d managed to do a lot of good with the resources at their disposal, but Angel still enjoyed his late-night walks. The only problem with being the head of an organization as large as W&H, was that you never got to see the faces of those you were helping. Coming back to the streets, dusting a few vamps, allowed him to see their faces. And it made him feel good.

           

He glanced down at the boy, who had been walking silently next to him, throwing up anxious glances at his father. “Where’s your mom?” Angel asked quietly, not wanting someone at home to be worried about her family.

           

“She’s with God and the angels,” Ty said steadily, without a shred of doubt in his voice. Angel wondered if that was what Spike had told him (hard to imagine that) or if someone else had.

           

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “How long have you been here?” Angel was unsure of how much the boy knew, how much he would be aware of at his age. If all had gone well, he would have known. If Holtz hadn’t happened, Connor would be only a little older than Ty, and he might have known what it meant to be a father.

           

“Two weeks,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Dad said it was better to move because his memory wouldn’t hurt as much. Do memories hurt?”

           

Angel stole a look at the man’s pale face. “Sometimes they do.”

           

They arrived at his apartment building and he told Ty the code and how to key it in. He was obviously a bright kid, and he did as he was told easily. The apartment was on the fourth floor, and Angel managed to fumble the keys out of his pocket and open the door, letting the boy go in ahead of him, grateful that there had been no trouble on the way back. He laid Spike on the couch—Spike, who still hadn’t moved a muscle—and turned to Ty who had come to stand beside his father expectantly. “Is he okay?” he whispered. And Angel realized how frightened he must truly be, to have lost his mother and now for his father to have been hurt, fighting off what looked to be monsters. Saved by a stranger and brought to a strange place.

           

“He’ll be fine,” Angel replied, kneeling down in front of him. “He hit his head, so he’s sleeping right now, but he’ll wake up soon. Are you hungry or anything?”

           

Ty gave him a look that was half innocence, half pure deviousness. “Can we get pizza?”

           

Angel smiled at him. “We can get pizza.”

           

Even as they waited for the food, Ty didn’t say much of anything, just sat next to Spike on the couch, after a while laying his head down on his chest. Angel found watching the two of them strangely disturbing. Well, heart-wrenching, really. Here was Spike, who had cut a swath through continents for over a hundred years. The only vampire in the history of the world who had managed to fall in love with a Slayer _sans_ -soul, and then had gone out and got said soul for said Slayer. Died to save the world, and was rewarded with a new life and a son. Even though every bone in Angel’s undead body wanted to cry “not fair!” he knew it was. Somehow, he knew it was perfectly fair, because Spike had done what even he hadn’t managed to do in over a hundred years of soul-having: he’d attained redemption.

           

Angel took it back. It really wasn’t fair.

           

The pizza came, and Ty pulled away from his father for long enough to come and eat, digging in hungrily to pepperoni and cheese. Angel didn’t bother joining him; he’d never been much for human food. And then Spike began to stir.

           

Angel moved towards him, but stopped when Spike called for his son. “Ty?! Ty—” Pizza was no comparison to dad, apparently, because the boy dropped his slice and ran into his father’s arms.

           

“Dad.” He pulled back from his father after a moment’s time to introduce his new friend. “Dad, this is Angel, and he said he knew you, and we got pizza, and he’s really nice, and he beat up the monsters. Dad—” He stopped when he saw the look on his father’s face, which had been drained of all color.

           

Angel watched as Spike shook his head, as though not quite believing what had happened. “You were supposed to be a dream,” he protested. “I thought it was all just a dream.”

           

There was a long silence, neither of them quite sure what to say, until Ty spoke again. “Dad?”

           

As if waking from a trance, the man who had been Spike turned to the boy. “It’s alright, luv,” he soothed. “Why don’t you go eat your pizza while Angel and I have a little chat.”

           

With Ty safely ensconced in front of the TV, contentedly munching on his pizza, Angel led the way out onto his balcony. “I don’t blame you for being a little shocked,” Angel began in a conversational tone. “Last I’d heard you were dead.”

           

“Spike is dead,” the man replied. “At least, that’s what I do remember.” The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “All I remembered when I woke up was that my name was William, and Spike was dead. I wasn’t even sure who Spike was at the time.”

           

Angel looked over at him. “But you know who I am.”

           

William shrugged. “Something inside me does, I suppose. Told you, I didn’t remember much of anything. Wasn’t until after Ty was born that I started having the dreams, and that’s all I thought they were. Till I saw you standing in there.” There was a long silence. “It’s true? I was a vampire?”

           

The older man was silent. He wasn’t quite sure what to tell this William about his past. What a shock to wake and find out every horrible thing you’d done, every nightmare that had haunted you, was true. To find out you hadn’t always been a man. “Yeah, you were.” He looked back into the apartment where Ty was sitting on folded knees, engrossed in some show. “He’s your son?”

           

“In every way that counts,” William replied. “I met his mum when she was about five months pregnant with him. She hadn’t a clue who the father actually was; she’d gotten a bit pissed at a party and didn’t remember the name of the bloke she slept with. But we got on well, and she wanted someone’s name down for him, so I agreed.”

           

“You loved her,” Angel said flatly. It surprised him, somehow, to know that Spike—William—had moved on from Buffy after what he’d been told. At the same time, if he remembered nothing, how could it even be called “moving on?” “What happened to her?”

           

He sighed, looking out over the railing at the streets below them. “Her heart. She’d gotten a virus that damaged it and went into congenital heart failure. She was on the transplant list, but she had a rare blood type and they didn’t find the bloody match in time.” He paused. “And I loved her more than I can say.”

           

“I’m sorry.” And he was, he realized. Spike may have gotten his reward, but he’d also been hurt by it. “What will you do now?” he asked, suddenly curious. But it was more than that. Spike had been a part of him for well over a century, and Angel still felt a tenuous connection. Angel wanted to know this man, to know who he was after having been turned inside-out and upside-down.

           

“Damned if I know,” William admitted with honesty. “Find a job, take care of Ty. Beyond that I hadn’t really thought much, you know.”

           

Angel hesitated, and then took the leap. “Come work for me.”

           

William turned to face him, and for the first time the vampire found himself cataloguing the differences he saw there. Brown hair had replaced blond. Pink had tinted dead flesh and lines had formed around the ageless eyes and mouth. He would be about thirty, Angel realized in shock, older than Angel had been when he was turned. And he’d always thought of Spike as younger. “I thought we hated each other,” he replied, truly surprised.

           

“Do you hate me?”

           

The bland tone drew a real smile to William’s face for the first time that night. He should be more shocked, he thought, coming face to face with his past as he had. He should be floored. Instead, he found himself acknowledging that some part of himself had always known. The dreams had always been too vivid to be mere dreams. “Not really, but give me some time.”

           

Angel found himself smiling as well. He really had hated Spike, and yet there had always been something about him, some spark that made him impossible to kill, even when he’d been Angelus. William’s calm face held it too; it was merely hidden better. “So come work for me,” he encouraged. “We’re family, after all.”

           

William looked back over his shoulder at his son again. He needed to find work, of course, but he’d made enough from the sale of the bookstore to hold him over for a while. What he really needed were other people, people he would be able to trust with his son should something happen to him. Erin’s death had brought his own mortality home, and if he should die Ty would be alone.

           

And as Angel had said, they were family of a sort. There was a good sized piece of him that wanted to find out everything he could about his past, to understand why he’d been brought back, what purpose he was supposed to serve. This vampire might have some of the answers. “Alright, then,” he found himself saying after a long consideration. “I could use the work.” And then after a moment he frowned. “And what exactly is it I’ll be doing?”

 

## II

“Please tell me you’re coming with me,” Dawn pleaded. “It’s L.A., Buffy.”

           

Her sister shook her head. “I don’t know, Dawnie. It’s L.A. I’m happy doing this.”

           

Dawn wanted to shake her sister. Buffy had been on the move almost constantly for over five years now. Training other Slayers, visiting hot spots, putting out demon-born fires, you name it, she’d done it. The younger Summers was beginning to wonder if she would ever settle down. “Angel is in L.A.,” Dawn pointed out persuasively.

           

“Angel and I aren’t together,” Buffy said patiently. “So I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

           

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I thought Angel was supposed to be the love of your life, Buffy.”

           

“Angel and I are friends,” she replied. “Most of the time.” Buffy heaved a deep sigh. “I grew up, Dawn, and Angel’s soul is still a little bit chancy. At this point, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of us getting together.”

           

“So he’s your friend,” Dawn said. “Look, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, and you know that he would love to have you around. Instead of you going to trouble, trouble could come to you for a change. Besides, Willow’s going to be there this year. It’ll be fun.”

           

Buffy smiled at her sister. Dawn really had blossomed into an incredible woman. For the last few years, it had mostly been just them, and they had come to rely heavily on one another. And now Dawn had gotten the opportunity to go to graduate school in ancient languages and archaeology. Buffy was beyond proud, and would love to be close, but that would mean being in Los Angeles. It would also mean staying in one place, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. Sunnydale had been her home, as much as she had hated it at times. And the man she had loved had died there, his soul pouring out in great beams of light. Moving around meant she didn’t miss him as much. At least, that’s what she told herself.

           

Maybe it was time, though. If only for a little while. “I’ll give it a shot, Dawn,” Buffy finally said. “I could probably use a vacation.”

 

## III

 

Erin pulled her jacket tighter around her body, her curly dark hair blowing in the early October wind. It was late and getting dark, the heavy cloud cover obscuring the light from the setting sun. Her car had broken down the previous week, and so she had relied on her own two feet to get her to the bookstore and back, a walk of a mile and a half or so. In Newport, even an after-dark stroll wasn’t too dangerous, but she still felt the thrill of fear run up and down her spine as she walked past an alley. She murmured the old prayer her grandfather had taught her as a small child. “The good Lord protect us from ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night.”

           

Looking back later, she supposed that the good Lord was working overtime that day, because the things that came at her out of the alley never got a chance to sink their teeth into her neck, as they were so obviously trying to do. One minute, two creatures were grabbing her and forcing her back into the darkness, and she was crying out in fear. The next minute they were dust on the wind, and a thin man in ragged clothing stood in front of her, a broken piece of wooden crate in his hand.

           

She stared at him, her heart still racing frenetically. “You okay?” he finally asked, as though pulling the words out of a deep well. Erin could tell he was having trouble focusing on her.

           

“Yeah, I think so.” Her heart began to slow, and her breathing was returning to normal. “Thank you.”

           

He frowned as though he was unsure of his next move. “Do—do you need an escort home?” he asked.

           

Erin smiled at the odd phrasing. “I could probably use one,” she admitted. He fell into step beside her, still silent. “I’m Erin O’Connell.”

           

The man beside her was silent for a long time before he said, “William.”

           

Erin’s eyebrows went up at his short answer. “No more than that?” she asked, her tone light.

           

“I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s—it was all fuzzy till I saw you. Don’t know much before that, but knew I had to save the girl.”

           

The way he said it, it sounded like a memorized line, something he’d said before. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Erin asked gently, knowing even as she did so that she was probably crazy. Sure the guy had just saved her life, but he was obviously a little off, and he was a complete stranger. Sane women did not ask strange, ragged men home with them.

           

But it felt right, and she remembered her grandfather telling her, as she was struggling with some long-forgotten decision, “You have a good heart, _alanna_. You follow your heart and you won’t go far wrong. And any mistakes you do make, they’ll be honest ones.”

           

Her grandfather had also taught her about debts of honor, and she owed William not only for her own life, but also the life of her unborn child. He was in trouble, and possibly friendless, and so she would do what she could for him.

           

William looked at her as though she had just gone insane, and she realized he probably wasn’t as off as she thought, just a little dazed from whatever had happened to him. “Why?”

           

“Because I owe you.”

           

The simplicity of her answer seemed to throw him, and she watched, fascinated, as he blushed and ducked his head. “I didn’t do anything special, luv.”

           

“Sure you did,” she replied and stopped in front of a darkened building. “You can spend the night tonight, have a decent meal, get cleaned up. Tomorrow, if you’re still having trouble remembering things, we can call the police, see if there are any missing persons reports.”

           

He paused, considering her choice carefully, turning it over in his head. It seemed both right and wrong at the same time, but he realized the wrongness was in consideration for the woman’s safety and nothing else. He might not be the best person to bring home, but he no longer remembered why that might be. And then he suddenly realized that he was hungry and tired and cold, and wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer, if only for tonight.

           

“Okay,” he finally replied, and Erin nodded, having waited patiently for his decision.

           

There was only about another hundred yards to go before they got to her apartment building, and she led him up the two flights of stairs to the third floor. She unlocked the door and entered, waiting for him to follow while William seemed to be waiting for something from her. “Did you change your mind?” she asked, bemused.

           

Hesitantly, he stepped through the doorway, a look of surprise on his face. It seemed as though he’d been expecting some resistance, and Erin had no idea what that might mean. “Come on,” she said quietly. “I’ll make us some dinner and then you can get cleaned up.”

           

William followed her into the kitchen, his blue eyes taking everything in at once, and Erin pulled out a can of Campbell’s Vegetable Beef soup as well as bread and cheese for sandwiches. “So you don’t remember anything at all?”

           

He stood, shifting from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “No. I—I remember my name, and that Spike is dead, but nothing else.”

           

“Spike?” She frowned. “Your dog maybe?” It didn’t really make any sense, unless it was this death that sent him over the edge in the first place. “Sit down, please. You’re making me nervous.”

           

He obeyed her immediately, feeling slightly abashed. The cobwebs were beginning to clear from his mind, but he still felt oddly out of place, as though something were fundamentally wrong. “Dunno,” he admitted frankly. “Dunno what happened before I saw you in that alley, either. Just that I saw you, and suddenly I knew what I had to do.”

           

Erin nodded, considering his accent. He wasn’t American, by the sound of it. Or, at least he hadn’t been raised in America. There was nothing to say that he couldn’t hold dual citizenship. And it was slightly odd, really, since he kept alternating in between high class British and something close to Cockney, or what she considered to be Cockney. They were both silent as she continued preparing the meal, and when she put the bowl of soup and toasted sandwich in front of him, he fell upon it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. For all she knew, he hadn’t.

           

When they had both finished, she put the dishes in the dishwasher and turned back to him. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” she suggested. “I’ll see if I can’t find something for you to wear.”

           

He nodded. “Thank you. For the food.” His eyes were clearer now, she realized, and calm. It was as though he had centered himself, in spite of not knowing who he was.

           

“Of course,” she replied, and reached out to touch him on the arm. Suddenly, she felt blinded. It was a sensation she had never experienced, one that she could barely grasp even as it happened. It was as though she was on fire, and she could see him. Truly _see_ him, and it was as though he were a great being of light and fire and beauty. It was like touching an angel.

           

“Let me—let me get some clothes,” she finally said, unsure if he had caught her reaction. Erin showed him to the bathroom and demonstrated how the taps worked. Then she went into her closet and started digging around. She’d only moved in a month or so before, and hadn’t yet unpacked everything. But most of what she had left in boxes were things she couldn’t bear to throw away.

           

The box labeled “Mark” was the one she was looking for. She pulled it out of the closet and began to sift through the contents, trying to find clothing that might fit her guest. Her brother had been two years older, but they had been inseparable. When their parents died in a car accident, they’d both come to live with their paternal grandfather, an old Irishman with a touch of the Sight. She still remembered what he’d said to her the day they’d arrived on his doorstep. “Ah, _alanna_ , you’ve got a hard road ahead of you, and so much loss. So much joy, but so much loss.”

           

Mark had dismissed his words with a laugh; he’d had a practical mind and didn’t much believe in the Sight or anything like it. But her brother had died at the tender age of 24 in an accident on the aircraft carrier he’d been stationed on. And her grandfather had died only a year later of a massive heart attack. And now she was all alone except for a baby on the way.

           

“Ma’am?” She turned to face William who stood in her doorway, a towel around his waist and a sheepish expression on his face. His hair was damp and curly from the shower, and she couldn’t help the bolt of pure desire that hit her somewhere below the belly. If touching him was like touching an angel, it no longer surprised her. Because right now he certainly looked like one.

           

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I was just remembering.” Erin held out the pair of worn green pants she’d found as well as a gray sweatshirt. “They were my brother’s.”

           

He looked at the clothing he held and his eyes met hers for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

           

There was such compassion in his eyes, she wanted to cry, but instead she forced a smile and went to exit the room. “I’ll make up the couch for you. It should be fairly comfortable.”

           

“Thank you,” he said, and he touched her arm as she passed him. For an instant, she felt it again, and then it passed, and he was only a very ordinary man standing in her bedroom.

           

Erin smiled, a real one this time, and squeezed his hand, relishing the contact. She had truly been alone for too long. “You’re welcome, William.”

 

## IV

 

“Did you know Angel hired a new guy?” Buffy asked her friend casually, going over her monthly budget with frown.

           

Willow looked up from the text she was reading. She’d been in England for the last several years, but had recently come back for an extended visit. “Angel’s company is huge, Buf. Angel’s always hiring new people.”

           

Buffy’s eyebrows went up and she tossed a letter over to the witch who quickly read it, intrigued. “William Smith, Vice President of Personnel and Special Projects. What is that supposed to mean?”

           

“I have no idea,” Buffy admitted frankly, leaning back in her chair. “All I know is that if we’re in need of more muscle at some point in time, he’s the go-to guy. Unless it’s about me or my salary, in which case I still go to Angel or Giles. Apparently I’m not personnel, nor am I a ‘special project.’” She sighed. “It just seems odd that Angel would hire somebody out of the blue like that, especially if they’re going to be dealing with a lot of Slayers.”

           

Willow shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s been handling things on his own for a while now, and he’s had a lot of responsibility. Maybe he finally got someone to help him.”

           

“Alone?” Buffy asked. “He’s got Wes, plus that other guy Gunn and Fred, of course.”

           

“But they’re all in charge of their own departments,” Willow pointed out, turning back to her text. “He probably wanted someone to help him out with all the stuff he gets stuck doing.”

           

“Well, I feel sorry for the guy, that’s for sure,” Buffy mumbled. “I’ve sort of worked for Angel for what, five years now? And he still drives me crazy.” She looked at the letter one more time, staring at the name. It just struck her as funny that Angel would hire someone she didn’t even know for a position like this. It wasn’t like he took on just anybody at W&H. It had to be somebody he trusted.

 

## V

 

Diary Entry: July 2004

_It really isn’t fair at all. You’d think my love life couldn’t get screwed up anymore than it is already, but no. My first date since that disaster with Robin a year ago, and the only person I could think about was Spike. It wasn’t that Kurt isn’t a nice guy, it’s just that as soon as I saw him I knew what Spike would be saying. “What a poof.” And he was. He was just so sensitive, so nice. In fact, he bored me to tears. Spike wouldn’t have bored me. I might have been annoyed as hell most of the time, but he never bored me. There would have been nothing predictable about a date with Spike. We probably would have patrolled, he might have thought up something completely off the wall. I would have been laughing most of the way through dinner, if I wasn’t ready to get up and walk out. And then we would have gone home and fucked each other silly until the sun came up._

_And I would have been happy._

           

So here I am, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who defeated the big evil and finally was getting her life on track, and I’m in love with a dead vampire. The worst part is that Spike was right, when I told him I loved him. I loved him, he was in my heart, but I wasn’t in love with him, and he knew it. He knew I wasn’t his and never would be, and that probably gave him the strength to sacrifice himself. Or at least it helped. No, I fell in love with him after he was dead. Every time I go out to fight and I make a really good move, every time I have to fight evil, I want to turn and ask his opinion, see if he saw what I did. I want to pull his ass out of the fire and yell at him about it. I want to fight until we’re both bruised and then make love for hours. I want him to believe that I’m in love with him.

 

## VI

 

The knock on the door came right on time. “Can I get it, Dad?” Ty asked. William had yet to figure out why he liked answering the phone and the door so much, but he did. And because his son had already had a rough night, he nodded indulgently.

           

Ty swung the door open wide and squealed as he saw who was standing there. “Uncle Angel!”

           

The normally serious vampire broke out into a wide grin as he swung the boy up on his back easily, Ty clinging like a monkey. “How’s it going, Ty?” he asked.

           

“Okay,” he replied, sobering for a minute as he remembered the earlier events of the evening, but then brightening again. “Will you play _Dark Warrior_ with me tonight?”

           

William rolled his eyes at the pair. Like any 5-year-old, Ty was completely hooked on video games, and Angel was no better. Even if he was sworn to secrecy about the vampire’s dirty little habit. “Maybe later. Your dad and I need to talk about a few things.”

           

The little boy sobered, and his grip on Angel’s neck tightened just a little. Angel shared a significant look with William and stepped further into the living room. “You want a beer?” William offered.

           

“That would be good.” Angel caught the beer tossed his way casually, coming over to sit down at the table. He settled Ty in his lap and watched as the other man took a seat across from him. “All right. What’s up?”

           

William’s jaw tightened. “Ty had a vision tonight.” He looked over at the boy apologetically. “You think you can tell Uncle Angel what you saw?”

           

Ty looked at his father unhappily. “Do I hafta?” he asked, his voice dangerously close to a whine.

           

“No, but I’d like you to if you can,” he replied quietly. Ty wriggled down from Angel’s lap and came to his father’s. No one but his dad would do if he had to talk about the monsters.

           

His voice trembled a little as he spoke. “There was a big monster an’ he was gonna kill people. He had big teeth and little red eyes and yellow skin. And horns. It was really dark where he was and I was scared.”

           

William gave his son a reassuring hug. “Why don’t you go play your game?” he suggested. “We’ll be along in a bit.”

           

Ty looked over at Angel as his father set him on the ground. “I did okay?”

           

Angel smiled. “You did great, Ty.” He looked over at William. “This hasn’t happened before?”

           

He shook his head. “No, this is the first time he’s had a vision. Erin told me her family had the Sight to a certain extent, but she said it had faded over time. There hadn’t been a true seer in her family for generations, and Ty’s great-grandfather was the last to have it in any measure at all.”

           

Angel looked grim. “He’s going to have to be protected, Will. If anyone finds out about that gift of his, he could easily become a target.”

           

William took a swig of beer, a bitter look on his face. “You mean even more than he is already?” He laughed, but it held no humor. “Bad enough that his father and favorite uncle have more enemies than there are stars in the sky, but now he’s seeing monsters. This isn’t what I wanted for him.”

           

Angel didn’t blame him for his anger. He’d be just as pissed off about the entire thing if it were his son, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that the boy’s gift made him that much more of a target. If someone wanted to go after Angel, as the head of Wolfram & Hart, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that Ty was his greatest weakness. He thought the world of the boy. “You’re not alone in this, Will. You’ve got all the resources of the company behind you. And you’ve got me.” He laid a cautious hand on the other man’s arm.

           

They weren’t friends, even after five months of working together. Angel knew they were probably more similar than they ever had been in the past, but their differences were still vast. William was lean and lithe, Angel taller and bulky. Angel still had the tendency to brood, William was generally cheerful, and about the closest he got to brooding was thoughtful. Angel’s idea of relaxation was meditating, or reading philosophy. William enjoyed a good soccer match or taking Ty to the park. If training, William could generally be found sparring with someone else, Angel preferred his solitary exercises for the most part. Angel was more of a loner, William more of an extrovert. Generally speaking, they had nothing in common.

           

But they agreed on three things: there was a lot of satisfaction to be had out of a good fight, evil was to be destroyed, and Ty was to be protected at all costs. And on those days when they were close to blows over some disagreement, it was Ty that held them both back. Because the boy adored his father and his “uncle” both.

           

William threw Angel a grateful look and managed a small smile. “Thanks, mate. It would’ve been harder if it were just me.” He looked at his son, who was now engrossed in a video game, and the look in his eyes was close to adoration. When he looked back at Angel, he was also staring at Ty, but the look in his eyes was closer to naked longing, and William suddenly understood.

           

“What happened to him?” he asked.

           

“Who?” Angel replied, not comprehending.

           

“Your son.”

           

The vampire stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           

“I’m not stupid, Angel,” William said, torn between exasperation and amusement. When the other man stayed silent, he went on. “The day Erin and I left the hospital with Ty, I passed a man in the hallway of the maternity ward. Seen him come in the day before, and I knew he’d lost his son. Stillbirth. When I passed him with my son in my arms, healthy and alive, he looked at me with such longing. Same look you have in your eyes when you look at Ty.”

           

Angel was quiet. No one knew about Connor, and he hadn’t told anyone about the deal he’d made to take Wolfram & Hart. No one was supposed to know, but for some reason he found himself wanting to tell this man. Maybe because William hadn’t been around when it was going on, maybe because he had known when no one else had. Maybe because he just wanted to tell someone so another person would know of Connor’s existence. And so, haltingly, he told his story.

           

“I’m sorry,” William said when it was all over. “Don’t think I could have done what you did. I’m too selfish.”

           

Angel shook his head. “You could do it. You love him.”

           

“He’s partly yours, you know.” William looked over at him, the emotion in his eyes saying what he couldn’t. “Don’t ask me why, but he loves you.”

           

“Thanks.” They both looked over at Ty, who had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of a cartoon. And they both silently vowed not to fail him.

 

## VII

 

“Do you love me?” Erin’s voice broke the stillness of the early evening. William looked over at her from where he sat on the balcony, his blue eyes almost black in the fading light. His bare feet were propped up on the railing, and he held a bottle of beer in his hand.

           

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and startled the truth out of him before he could even think. “Yeah. I do.” But he didn’t ask if she loved him in return; there was a part of him that feared her answer. Some part of him did not believe he could be loved.

           

She sat up straighter, a fire lighting her eyes. “Then marry me.”

           

His head whipped around and his eyes were wide. “Excuse me?”

           

“Marry me. I love you, William. I want to be with you.” She hesitated. “Unless you can’t, because—”

           

He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t married before. Of that I’m sure.” William found himself unable to tell her about the dreams that had begun after Ty’s birth. They had needed one another from the beginning; they were both alone in the world. The police hadn’t had any reports of a missing person matching his description, he wasn’t a wanted criminal, there was nothing to explain where he had come from or who he was. In the end, they had managed to get through the nightmare of paperwork that came with his new existence. And when she had asked him to help her in her bookstore as her pregnancy advanced, he gladly accepted. And when she asked him to be the father, it had felt exactly right.

           

But he and Erin had never discussed what their relationship was exactly. When the dreams began, he found himself silent on the matter, unsure of what they meant, but certain that it was nothing good.

           

“Is there someone else?” she asked.

           

He shook his head, looking off into the distance. “If there was, it was over a long time ago.” There was a long pause. “I dream sometimes. I don’t know if they’re memories or not, but I don’t think I was a good man, Erin-luv.”

           

Erin stood. William was the most real person she’d ever known. He was who he was, always. It was as though whatever had happened to him had peeled away all the masks most people wore. And she still remembered that moment when touching him had been like touching a living flame. “You’re a good man now,” she said with conviction. “And you’re a wonderful father. I love you.”

           

Surprise and delight lit his eyes. “Truly?”

           

“Truly. We can get married by the Justice of the Peace in a few days.” She reached out to caress his face. They had not touched much at all. She’d not wanted to be touched during her pregnancy really, and then after it had taken all their time and energy to take care of Ty and the store. But now their words had removed that barrier, and she couldn’t resist tracing the line of his jaw, the scar on his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose.

           

William cupped her cheek with one hand, pushed her hair back with the other. “Erin—” His lips covered hers and it was several minutes before either of them came up for air.

           

She suddenly grinned at him. “You know, I think we should get married as soon as possible. I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself for very long.”

           

A rare, slow smile pulled his lips. “Then let’s get it done.”

 

## VIII

 

He had told no one when the dreams changed. It had been just after Erin died, soon after he’d met up with Angel and started his new job. Not that he didn’t still have the ones he now recognized as memories, but sometimes, once or twice a week, he would have the others. And in those dreams he was on a beach with _her_ , and they walked together, and she told him that she missed him. And in one memorable scene she’d told him she’d fallen in love with him. In those dreams he was Spike again, with all the memories that went along with it. In those dreams he was whole, and he burned for her.

           

And when he woke up he remembered that Spike was dead and that _she_ surely hated him, because she had no reason not to, even if she hadn’t a clue as to his existence. On those mornings, he wept.

 

## IX

 

“Mr. Smith, you have someone waiting for you.” The secretary’s voice came through the intercom clearly, and he frowned. He knew he didn’t have an appointment for the afternoon.

           

“Who is it, Shelly?” he asked.

           

There was a pause, and then she replied, a disapproving note in her voice. “She says her name is Mary Elizabeth Carletti. She’s been here for two hours already and refuses to leave unless she sees you. Should I call security?”

           

William lifted one scarred eyebrow. This was odd. It was rare that a visitor would even be able to get through the front lobby without an appointment, but that they would actually be able to reach the inner offices? He found himself wanting to meet the person that had managed it. “No, that won’t be necessary. Go ahead and send her in.”

           

The girl wasn’t what he expected. She was perhaps 17 or 18 and certainly underfed, with dark eyes and shaggy dark hair. She was dressed in what was probably her best clothing, even though it was shabby. William pegged her for a street kid immediately, and if she wasn’t right at the moment, she had been recently. “Can I help you?”

           

Mary Elizabeth Carletti’s chin came up defiantly as she heard the doubt in his voice. “Yeah. I came to see you about a job.”

           

“I think you’d want to go through the personnel department for that,” William said, with some amusement. He might be the personnel director, but that was just a fancy way of saying that he took care of what Angel didn’t want to. William was the people-person, after all.

           

“I think you know my resume wouldn’t get past the front door,” she replied belligerently. “I heard this was the place to go if you wanted to fight the monsters.”

           

“And you do?”

           

“Yeah, that’s right. I been fighting ‘em since I was 13, and I’m stronger and faster than most of the guys you got here, I bet,” she replied, and William suddenly felt his heart ache for the shabby teenager with the defiant chin and scared eyes. She was just a kid, and he could smell her desperation from across the room.

           

“Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Carletti,” he suggested gently. “And then you can tell me why you came to me.” Suddenly he could sense it. He couldn’t always, and Angel was better at it, but he could usually tell a Slayer when he saw one. There was a hidden power to them, and this girl reeked of it.

           

“It’s Emmie,” she said. “That’s what my friends call me.” She sat cautiously. “Look, I know this is crazy, but word on the street is that you guys help people, and I can fight. I just need a job, and I thought if you helped people you could help me find one.”

           

He smiled. “How long have you been able to fight?”

           

“Since I was 13,” she said, relaxing a little now that she knew the man behind the huge oak desk wasn’t going to have her thrown out. “One day my dad was whaling on me and the next day I tossed him out the door. Then I left. Look Mr. Smith, I’ll do anything.”

           

Emmie was desperate; that was the honest truth. She needed to get off the streets. She’d been able to keep herself clean and out of trouble, but times were getting harder and she couldn’t panhandle like she used to anymore. The kids’ shelters were starting to look at her askance and the women’s shelters were usually full. So today she’d gathered up every bit of courage she had, dressed in her best and cleanest clothing, and walked in here fully expecting to get kicked out. And instead she meets this guy with the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. That he was hot and had a great accent only increased the attraction.

           

“Call me William,” he replied. “I’ll be honest with you, Emmie. We’ve got fighters; we don’t need any more. You got any other skills? Interests?” He had no intention of sending her back out onto the street. Angel had a special fund for Slayers, but he wanted to test the girl’s mettle.

           

She shook her head. “I didn’t finish high school, but you probably already knew that. About the only thing I know how to do is fight.” And then, almost as a second thought, she added, “I like kids though. Always thought I might want to be a teacher.”

           

William paused. He and Angel had talked about getting a nanny/bodyguard for Ty. He had been unwilling to put his son in the hands of some Neanderthal, but he hadn’t really thought about hiring a Slayer to look out for him. If she liked kids, and Ty liked her, it might be a match made in heaven. Ty got a nanny, and he got the assurance that there was someone looking after him that was capable of tackling vampires and demons.

           

“Wolfram & Hart has a special fund set up for girls like you, pet,” he said. “So don’t worry about that just yet. But I might have a job opportunity for you. What would you think of a position as a nanny, provided you and the kid get along?”

           

She stared at him for a long time, and then hope began to light behind her eyes, an expression that hadn’t been there for years. “You mean it?”

           

“I never say anything I don’t mean, luv,” he replied with an answering smile.

           

“Then I think I’m in,” she said. And for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid.

 

## X

 

Buffy saw him, standing on the sand, the light falling full on him. He had been handsome in the moonlight, but she loved seeing him in the sun. The only other time he’d looked like this had been in the cave, and the light had been from his soul.

           

He wore dark jeans and a light blue sweater and was barefoot, and she found it odd to see him wear such clothes. And yet, she might have seen it before if she hadn’t made that stupid speech that had sent him back into his old costume before the end. Would she have said those things if she’d known there was so little time left? Would she have spent that last night with him differently? Would she have said those three little words then so that he might have believed it at the end? It was hard to tell.

           

He turned to face her, and she realized his hair was different. Longer, though still bleached, it was shaggier, the dark roots showing clearly. “Hello, Spike.”

           

“Hullo, Buffy.” He smiled at her then, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners, and she saw that he was older, though she wasn’t sure why that would be. Because this was a dream, surely he should look the same as when she’d last seen him.

           

She came to him then, shyly. “I missed you.” The air hung heavy with all that she could not bring herself to say, even in a dream. He cocked his head in the old way he’d had, and she felt the sense of aching loss welling up inside. “I missed you so much,” she suddenly cried, the pain needing to go somewhere.

           

“Oh, luv, I’m right here,” he said, and then she was in his arms again, and he held her as he had in those last days. “I’ll always be here for you, Buffy,” he whispered against her hair. “Always. Just find me.”

           

When she woke, her cheeks were wet with tears.


	2. Empires of Love

“you don't remember me but i remember you/i lie awake and try so hard not to think of you/but who can decide what they dream?/and dream i do.../i believe in you/i'll give up everything just to find you/i have to be with you to live to breathe/you're taking over me/  
have you forgotten all i know/and all we had?/you saw me mourning my love for you/and touched my hand/i knew you loved me then” ~Evanescence, “Taking Over Me”

 

I

 

William grinned as he moved through the fight easily, gracefully. He was already up to five kills, which was surely better than Angel would do on this night. Which meant that Angel would be the one buying the drinks. He got two more vampires, one right from underneath Angel’s nose, and his grin broadened as the vampire realized what he’d done. “Seven,” he said smugly, and laughed as Gunn clapped him on the shoulder.

           

“My man, Will! Way to go. My count’s six.” The black man looked over at Wes, waiting for his numbers.

           

“Also six,” Wes said, perfectly content. “Angel?”

           

“Four,” he mumbled sourly. William had started the contest, which pissed him off. It was fun enough on the nights he wasn’t on the tail end, but William typically managed at least one more kill. Beating him by three meant William would be insufferable for the next few days.

           

“I guess we know who’s buying the drinks,” Gunn said with a grin. He’d yet to come in last and was enjoying the friendly rivalry. Angel was the only truly sore loser.

           

Angel finally managed a sick grin. “I’m going to have to take a rain check,” he said, trying to sound regretful. “I’ve got work to do.”

           

The other three men looked at each other and then shrugged. “Fine, mate,” William said. “Next time you can buy two rounds.”

           

The nest of vampires they had just cleared out had been a nasty one, and they’d been alerted to it by one of Ty’s visions. Typically, none of them handled the day-to-day things, the little battles. But they had all worked very hard to keep Ty’s gift a secret, and so it was the core group that handled what the Powers sent their way and no one else. Fred might join them, but she was usually content to stay in the research and development labs, working up new gadgets to send with them. Emmie almost always wanted to come, but tonight she’d stayed with Ty, who’d been sick and hadn’t wanted anyone else to stay with him.

           

“I think I’ll head home then,” Gunn said, with a wave to William and Wes. “I’ll see you guys at the office tomorrow.”

           

“You want a drink?” William offered. “I should send Emmie home, and we still need to finish that chess game.”

           

Wes nodded. “Yes, that would be nice I think. I could use some time to unwind.”

           

Emmie stood to greet them when they came in. “So, who won tonight?”

           

“I did,” William replied, grinning broadly.

           

She smiled back. “Good for you. Next time you should let me go beat Angel and you can stay home with the kid.” But there were no hard feelings in her voice. One thing every member of the group understood was that Ty’s protection was just as important as any other job, even if it did look a lot like babysitting.

           

“How is he?” William asked, and for the first time that evening he allowed his deep concern to show.

           

Emmie shrugged. “He ate mac and cheese for dinner, played a few video games, and was back to his normal self by bed time. Ty’s a resilient kid, Will. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

           

“That’s like telling the sun not to rise,” Wes commented, and William gave him a rueful smile.

           

“He’s my life.” William smiled at the Slayer. “Go on home. I’ll make sure Ty gets to school tomorrow and meet you at the office.”

           

“Where I will continue my training.” Emmie rolled her eyes at Wes, her unofficial Watcher, who merely lifted an eyebrow in return, long since used to the peculiarities of Slayers.

           

Fifteen minutes later, both men were enjoying a Guinness and a different sort of battle in their long-running chess game. “So when are you planning on asking Fred out, mate?” William finally asked into the silence.

           

Wes gave him a dirty look. “What makes you think I was even considering it?”  
           

“Maybe the moon eyes you keep using on her?” he asked with amusement. “Anyone can tell you have a yen for her, Wes.”

           

The Watcher shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, William. There’s too much history there.”

           

William rolled his eyes. “Please. And she’s not looking at you like that all the time? Whatever sodding history is there is just that: history. I’m telling you, if you don’t ask her out soon, someone else will jump on the chance and you’ll be left in the cold.”

           

Wesley looked acutely uncomfortable. “I don’t think—”

           

“And that’s your problem,” William interrupted. “You’re thinking about it. You need to just do it. Love isn’t about brains, it’s about blood, feeling.” When the other man still appeared uncertain, he continued. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. I’m taking Ty and Emmie to Lorne’s new show on Friday night. You ask Fred if she wants to come along with our group, we’ll make it an early evening, and you two’ll be alone. Rest is up to you.”

           

“Wait a minute,” Wes replied with a frown. “You’re taking a seven-year-old to a lounge?”

           

“Boy’s a part of this whether I like it or not,” William said softly. “If I can’t give him the ideal of a normal life, I want him to feel this is as normal as possible. It’ll be better that way.” He smiled wryly. “Besides, can’t pretend everything’s normal when his favorite uncle’s a vampire and his dad’s an ex-vamp, now can I?”

           

Wes nodded. “You’re doing a good job with him, William. He’s an incredible boy, considering what he has to go through on a regular basis.”

           

“Which reminds me,” William said, moving one of his knights, “when did you teach my son how to magically unlock things?”

           

Wes winced. “When did you find out?”

           

“Yesterday, from Emmie.” William grinned at Wes’s obvious discomfort. “She forgot her keys and he unlocked the door for her. Is there anything else you taught him?”

           

Wes sighed. William’s dislike and distrust for magic was legendary, and he wasn’t surprised that the man was angry with him, but he’d had very good reasons for what he’d done. “Other than how to unlock a door? I also taught him a spell that will produce light. I didn’t want to go behind your back, but I didn’t think I’d get your permission either. And both spells will certainly come in handy if he gets into a tight spot.”

           

William’s face darkened. “He’s not going to get into a tight spot.”

           

“Emmie can’t be with him all the time, Will,” the Watcher pointed out gently. “I pray that it will never happen, but it’s entirely possible that something could, and in either situation being able to perform a few simple spells may allow him to save his own life.” When William was silent, Wesley continued. “I taught him what I did for the same reason you’re taking him to Lorne’s on Friday. To prepare him for what his life will be. Like it or not, he didn’t have much of a choice, and neither did you, but he has a real chance. Just think, Will, who his teachers are, what he can learn by the time he’s of an age to use what he knows. He’ll be a real force for good.”

           

“You’re right, of course,” William said. “But it galls me to see him already having to think about his own defense, to know his life will be in danger constantly. He’s my son, Wes, mine to protect.”

           

“He’s all of ours to protect,” Wesley corrected him gently. “There isn’t any one of us who wouldn’t lay down our lives for him. You know that.”

           

William did know that. What’s more, he also knew the background on it, knew that there had been another little boy that they had not been able to protect. And he knew that Wesley had once betrayed Angel because of his protective instincts. He often wondered if they didn’t all know about Connor somewhere deep inside themselves, where instinct and feeling lived, if not memory. If, perhaps, Ty was a symbolic replacement for Angel’s lost son. In a way, William supposed, there was no way he would not be.

           

“I know that,” he replied, thinking that there was an empire of love that existed only for his son. It was a comforting thought.

 

II

 

“Oh, come on, Will. It’s my birthday, Angel has Ty all night, and I want to go out!” Emmie gave him her best pleading look, well aware that his ability to resist was rather low.

           

William sat back in his chair and looked at the girl seated across from him fondly. She’d changed in the three years she’d worked for him. Emmie was a terrific fighter and an excellent nanny, with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. She’d put on weight and muscle, and her lean, tall frame was well rounded and absolutely solid. What’s more, she’d managed to nanny Ty full-time while finishing up her GED and training as a Slayer with Wes and the rest of the gang. He was proud of her, and glad that his instincts had been absolutely right.

           

“And what about the others?” he asked, already beginning to cave. “Suppose I’m the only one available tonight.”

           

She shook her head. “No, but you’re probably the only one who’ll go with me to get my tattoo. In any case Fred and Wes are taking Ty the next couple days so I have some time off. And Gunn’s taking me on an assignment he has on Friday night.” Her eyes danced. “He’s even letting me pick my own weapons.”

           

‘Only a Slayer,’ William thought fondly to himself. “And this is Angel’s regular night to have my son. So what’s he doing for you?”

           

Some of the sparkle left her face. “He gave me a card.”

           

“He what?” William asked, and then rolled his eyes expressively. Sometimes Angel could be a complete prat. Which, of course, was why William was the people person of the group. A little charm could go a long way. But still, Angel and Emmie were at least friends. “He’s a git, luv. Actually, a card from the great poof is better than most get from him.”

           

“Unless you’re Ty, and then he spoils you rotten,” she replied, smiling. William didn’t say anything to that, knowing the exact reasons why Angel was so intent on making Ty happy.

           

He gave her a look, holding out for just a minute longer. “And tell me again why you don’t have more friends your own age, pet.”

           

“Because then I’d have to explain that my boss is an ex-vampire who fights evil, my kid has visions regularly, I’m a Slayer, and my boss’s boss is a real vampire,” she said sweetly. “And even if I skip all that, and go for the shortened version of nannying for some big-wig executive, I would still have to explain that I spent five years living on the streets and that I would be happier if I never saw my family again. Then people look at me like I need to be pitied rather than like I’m crazy. Take your pick.”

           

“The life of a Slayer is never easy,” William intoned solemnly, already beginning to put his things away. Then, lightening up, he said, “But at least here you know you’re among friends since we’re all bloody freaks.”

           

Emmie smiled. “Why do you think I spend all my time here?”

 

~~~~~ 

 

She winced only once, when the needle first went into the skin. And when William asked if she needed a hand to hold, she simply grinned at him. “Feels kinda neat, actually.” Her grin changed into a smirk. “So why don’t you have one of these?”

           

He raised the scarred eyebrow and went back to watching the artist work, fascinated at how the skin took the ink. “Because I have an eight-year-old who would love one, and I’d have to explain that _he_ has to wait another ten years.”

           

“The things we do for love,” Emmie said mockingly.

           

“Besides,” he continued, “what would I get? Like yours, luv, but it wouldn’t do for me.”

           

Emmie snorted. “I never saw you as the butterfly type of man, either, Will.” Her tattoo was the size of his palm on her right shoulder, and was a stylized butterfly emerging from a cocoon. It was both pretty and powerful, something she’d designed herself, liking the symbolism. But William was right. What would he get? For all that he had made a life for himself, Emmie knew better than anyone that he was still very much a blank slate. In many ways, he was little older than his son, having been reborn but a few months before Ty’s birth. And she was well aware that beneath the devil-may-care, charming exterior lived an insecure man with deep doubts as to his worth and general ability to do anyone any good. He was very much himself, but there was still a piece missing.

           

“You design the piece yourself?” the tattoo artist asked. She had introduced herself as Lavender.

           

“Yeah, why?” the Slayer asked.

           

Lavender smiled. “Because it’s good work, kid. You let me use it, I’ll give the tattoo to you free. I’m always looking for new designs.”

           

“Really?” Emmie asked, taken aback.

           

“Sure,” she said. “You come up with something else, bring it in and I’ll pay you for it. Maybe not a lot, but it’s a little extra cash in the pocket.”

           

Emmie looked over at William. “What do you think, Will?”

           

He shrugged. “Do what you like, pet. It’s your work.”

           

Emmie made the deal, and once Lavender had put the finishing touches on the butterfly, they left, looking for a different kind of entertainment. “How does it feel?” William asked.

           

“Like a sunburn,” she replied. “It’s not that bad. But now, you’re going to buy the drinks.” Emmie grinned at him, and he smiled in reply, glad to make her happy. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be out with a woman, where your only job was to make sure she had a good time and got home safely. And since he genuinely enjoyed Emmie’s company, he didn’t mind helping her out at all.

           

So he paid for the drinks and watched to make sure she wasn’t letting inexperience take her further than she really wanted to go. But she held her alcohol well, and they’d hit three bars before they headed back to the apartment building. She’d taken an apartment two floors up from his, mostly out of convenience, and since they both desired their own space it had been a perfect arrangement.

           

William showed her up to his place, wanting to make certain she wasn’t going to be sick. He figured if he was the one paying for the drinks she got drunk on, he should stick around till the end. But Emmie seemed all right, and she was sobering fairly rapidly. He’d had a couple beers, but he didn’t drink much these days. It might have been different in the past, but these days he had a job and a son to think about, and that changed a man.

           

“Do you miss her?” Emmie asked, out of the blue.

           

He looked over at her in surprise. “Miss who?”

           

“Erin.”

           

He sighed. “Yeah, suppose I always will in some way.” He stared off into the distance, not even trying to put what he felt into words. Because the loss of Erin was painful, but behind it laid a deeper pain, of another loss, one he didn’t have the words to name. He plopped down next to her on the couch. “Have a good time tonight, pet?”

           

“I did.” She stared at him through dark eyes, and her tanned hand reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Thank you. For everything, you know.”

           

“Didn’t do much, luv,” he said, brushing off her thanks.

           

She shook her head. “No. You saw me when I couldn’t even see myself.” And then she leaned in and placed her lips on his. For a moment, everything was fine. The kiss deepened, and he brought his hands up to caress her face, and then, at the same instant, they both pulled away.

           

“Uh, yeah,” Emmie said, a slightly disappointed look on her face. “That was—”

           

“Like kissing your sister,” William replied, a hint of frustration in his eyes. And then they looked at each other, and both of them lost it at the same time, laughing until their sides hurt.

           

“Damn,” she gasped when she finally had enough breath to talk. “And I thought you had a crush on me.”

           

He stared at her. “What? I got told _you_ were the one that had a crush on me.” That set them off again, until he finally stopped and looked at her. “So what was that, luv?”

           

“That was me trying to take the easy way out,” she admitted. “It’s just that you’re a great guy, and I like you, and I love your son. I figured it would be a perfect match.”

           

“And you thought kissing me would—”

           

“Make sparks, and I would find you irresistible.” Emmie groaned. “So I’m an idiot. Just shoot me now.” And then she narrowed her eyes. “You kissed back,” she pointed out.

           

“Probably for the same reasons,” he admitted. “Thought it might work.”

           

Emmie laid her head on his shoulder. “So we’re still good?”

           

“Probably better,” he admitted. “Now there’s no wondering.” William looked at his friend. “You want to tell me who he is?”

           

She closed her eyes. “You’re too perceptive,” she complained.

           

“You’re the one wandering around, daydreaming.”

           

Emmie frowned. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

           

“Yeah,” he said, smiling slightly. “Cross my heart, an’ hope to die.”

           

A smiled lifted her own lips. “It’s Angel.” At the silence that followed, she opened her eyes to look at him. “Like I said, just shoot me now. I’m an idiot.”

           

“You’re not an idiot,” he said gently. “And you’re not the first. I’m sorry.”

           

“So am I,” she admitted. “I never wanted to fall in love with him, you know. And he barely acknowledges my existence.”

           

“No one ever said love was logical, Mary Elizabeth,” William said.

           

“Who is it for you?” she asked. “Because you talk in your sleep.”

           

“Nosy chit,” he said fondly. “If there’s anyone, it’s the one I dream about.”

           

“Buffy?” she asked quietly. She knew all about Buffy. Most every new Slayer, when they found out who and what they were, heard the story. How, to save the world, _the_ Slayer had managed to activate every potential Slayer. And, incidentally, how a souled vampire had sacrificed himself to prevent the opening of the Hellmouth, thus sealing it off for all time. What Emmie knew that most people didn’t, was that said vampire was now Mr. William Smith, the man who kept track of their whereabouts and status.

           

He shook his head, a gesture at odds with his next words. “It’s bloody useless, you know. She doesn’t know I’m alive, and even if she did, she probably wouldn’t care. She’s well rid of me.”

           

“How can you say that, Will?” Emmie demanded. This was a side of him she’d often seen, but knew no one else did. “You died. You saved the world. There’s a lot to be said for that. Whatever happened between the two of you, surely she’s forgiven you by now.”

           

“There are some things that are unforgivable,” he murmured, and concern bloomed on her face.

           

“Maybe you should let her decide that. You’ll never know how she feels unless you let her know you’re actually alive,” Emmie pointed out.

           

He shook his head again. “If she finds out, I’ll deal with it then. But I’m not forcing myself on her.” And he winced as he said the words, as though there was something deeper there. Emmie sighed. She knew that William’s memories, or rather his dreams, were spotty at best. She also knew that he remembered nothing about getting his soul, or how he died. He had very vague memories of being human, but his dreams were filled with violence. It was no wonder he felt as he did, but she couldn’t help but think he was wrong. The story she’d managed to wring from Wesley said that Spike, the vampire William had been, had gone off to get his soul of his own volition.

           

If Emmie had a better idea of Buffy’s reaction, and had a prayer of escaping William’s wrath, she would have told the Slayer herself. But perhaps Will was right, and the Slayer hated him. In that case, it was better to let things be. But she also knew that it had been several years since Buffy’s last visit to Wolfram & Hart, just before William had reappeared. She had a feeling deep in her gut that such an absence wouldn’t last for too much longer.

           

And then the shit would really hit the fan.

 

III

 

Buffy never ceased to be amazed at Angel’s headquarters. She knew it drove him crazy to be the head of such a large organization at times, and then he drove everyone else crazy, but he’d brought them all so far. Without the resources he had placed at Giles’ disposal, as the _de facto_ head of the Council, they would never have gotten off the ground as quickly as they did. Not to mention all the help he’d given in finding and training the Slayers themselves. Suddenly she felt slightly guilty for not coming more often. Angel had been incredibly accommodating in letting her do pretty much whatever she wanted to do for the past eight, almost nine years. Oh well. She’d be in town the next few months anyway, maybe the entire year. Willow was planning on being in L.A. for that long as well, and Dawn had been right. It would be nice to be around some of the old gang full-time again.

           

She looked over at her younger sister, who was also looking around, impressed. They shared a smile, and then something caught Buffy’s eye. A man was walking through the lobby, not an unusual event, but he struck her as familiar. Frowning, she watched as another guy called to him and handed him a bill. “Looks like you were right about Man-U, Will,” he said. “They’re fielding a great team this year.”

           

The man he’d called William grinned in return, and made a disparaging remark about his friend’s choice of teams, resulting in a slap on the shoulder. And then he turned towards Buffy just enough so that she got a good look at his face. It was impossible, of course, but there he was. Even from across the lobby she could see that it was the same eyes, the same cheekbones, the same stride, even the blond hair. She froze and then started after him as he made his way towards the elevators, turning angrily when someone grabbed her arm.

           

“Buffy.” Angel had her upper arm in a firm grip, and wasn’t letting go.

           

She tried shaking him off. “Look, Angel, I know it sounds crazy, but I just saw Spike. He was right there—” Buffy turned her head back in the direction Spike had gone, but turned back towards Angel when he didn’t let go. And when she saw his face, she knew. “You knew,” she whispered. “How long have you known?”

           

“Let’s go up to my office,” Angel replied softly. Dawn watched the entire scene with fascination and rapidly blossoming anger.

           

“That’s really Spike?” she asked, eyes flashing. “Spike is here, and you didn’t tell us?”

           

“Look,” Angel said, casting a glance around the bustling lobby. “I know you’re upset, and I promise I’ll let you yell at me all you want to, but _in my office_.”

           

Buffy wanted to say no. She wanted to make a scene out here, in public, where he couldn’t hide, and she was just mad enough to do it and damn the consequences. But she reminded herself that Angel was the head of a large, successful corporation, one that paid a number of her bills, and what that boiled down to was that she owed him. She owed him enough to stop the rant and follow him up to his office and listen to his rational arguments for why he never told her Spike was alive. “Fine,” she hissed, yanking her arm out of his grip. “Let’s go upstairs.”

           

Angel cursed silently as the elevator reached his floor. He _knew_ he should have made William contact Buffy. Or, if nothing else, he should have told her himself. His plan had been to catch her in the lobby and let her know that the man she knew as William Smith had been Spike, but he’d been just a hair too late, and William had been just a little too early. Dammit.

           

“All right, Angel,” Buffy said, once the door had been closed behind her. “Spill.”

           

Angel barely managed to contain a flinch when he found the eyes of both Buffy and her sister on him. The wrath of the Summers was fierce. “First of all, the man you saw is William Smith, and he’s been working for me for about three years now.”

           

“The VP of personnel and special projects,” Buffy murmured. “I wondered about him when he first started, but—”

           

Angel shook his head. “Will’s human, Buffy, or at least he’s close enough. It seems he’s still got some leftover abilities from when he was a vampire. For instance, he’s as good a fighter as Spike ever was, but other than that he’s completely human.” When Buffy might have interrupted, he held up a hand. “Just hear me out. He also has no memory of his life as Spike. What little he does know comes in dreams, and those are sketchy most of the time. He didn’t even remember me, and the only reason he’s here now is because I prevented him from becoming a midnight snack.”

           

Buffy’s anger dulled to a simmer. “But you told him that we were friends, right?” she asked. “I mean, he knew that there were people who would want to know that he was still alive.”

           

Angel shook his head. “William didn’t think you’d want to know. I think he thought it would be best if Spike remained dead, and I let him make the call.”

           

Buffy wanted to scream, and she could see from the look on Dawn’s face that her sister was equally frustrated. So maybe Spike—William—didn’t know her and didn’t remember her. Angel had known how she felt about him, and still hadn’t contacted her. “I still think you should have contacted me when you found him, Angel. You would have wanted me to do the same for you if it had been one of your friends, like Gunn or Cordy.”

           

The big vampire winced visibly. Buffy had a really good point, and she was probably right. If it had been one of his friends, he would have been furious that he wasn’t contacted, but she didn’t really know William. And he told her that.

           

“You might be right,” Dawn said, from her position by his window. “But the way he died, there were a lot of things that didn’t get said. I would have liked…” she trailed off. “The point is that you knew and you didn’t tell us. Spike, or William, or whatever you call him, he doesn’t know us, so he couldn’t know.”

           

Angel nodded wearily, letting it go. They were right, he was right, there wasn’t a clear-cut answer in this particular situation. He was about to say something else when the intercom buzzed impatiently. “Yes?”

           

“Mr. Angel, I know you’re in a meeting, but Miss Carletti’s here with Ty. There was some emergency at his school and Mr. William is in a meeting in the White Room with strict instructions not to be disturbed.” Angel frowned. Meetings in the White Room were not something you disturbed unless you felt like it would be a good time to end your existence. And that meant he was the go-to guy.

           

“Send them in, Deb.” Buffy watched as a young woman, several years Dawn’s junior, came into the room leading a little boy of about eight.

           

The boy didn’t even pause coming into the office, shooting straight towards Angel’s arms. Much to Buffy and Dawn’s surprise, Angel didn’t even blink, just grabbed him and held on tight. “Hey, I got you now, little man,” he murmured. Angel looked up at the woman. “Bad one, Emmie?”

           

“Bad enough,” she said, her face grim. Her dark hair was cut short, and dyed black with red tips. She had several earrings in each ear, and there was both a hardness and a softness to her that Buffy found reminiscent of Faith. “School called me because he’d passed out at recess. They thought maybe he was sick. I passed it off as one of his seizures.”

           

Angel nodded in reply, all the while stroking the boy’s back. “All right. I want you to notify Wes. Tell him I need him here ASAP. He’s probably the best one at asking the right questions. Let Gunn and Fred know too, since this is probably big. Leave a message for William so he knows to come here as soon as his meeting’s over, and put Lorne on stand-by. Ty can stay with him for a while.”

           

Emmie blinked several times. “You mean—”

           

“You’re coming with us,” Angel said, a smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll need all the fire-power we can get on this one, I think. Buffy,” he turned to the other Slayer. “You want to kick some ass?”

           

“When do I not?” she replied flippantly, looking at him with a huge question in her eyes.

           

He smiled grimly. “Sorry. Buffy, Dawn, this is Mary Elizabeth Carletti, also known as Emmie. She’s Ty’s nanny and a Slayer.” He looked down at the boy’s dark hair. “And this guy is Ty. William’s son. Emmie, Ty, this is Buffy Summers. _The_ Slayer.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy was still trying to process the fact that Spike—William—had a son when the man himself strode into the room. Fred, Gunn, and Wesley had all showed up about thirty minutes earlier, and they were all trying to decipher what Ty had told them he’d seen. Buffy had to admire the kid. The stuff that he was describing probably would have shocked her to tears if she’d been eight, but after about five minutes in Angel’s arms, he’d recovered sufficiently to give a good description.

           

Angel hadn’t had any time at all to tell her exactly how Spike had managed to come by a son, but she wasn’t sure he was biological. There was little resemblance, except for Ty’s startlingly blue eyes, though she supposed it was possible he looked like his mother. In any case, she was reserving judgment. At first glance, however, she did like Emmie. The girl was sharp, but gentle with the boy, and willing to sit back and listen to what was going on.

           

When William entered the room, Ty scrambled down from Angel’s lap and went directly for his father, even as Buffy stood silently. She had no idea what, if anything she should say, so she waited as the man that had been Spike greeted his son. “Hey, little man,” he said softly. “You okay?”

           

Ty raised his chin and nodded, a gesture that reminded Buffy of Spike as they headed into battle with Glory, with the First. “Yeah.”

           

“Good boy,” William said, pulling his son in for another hug. And then he saw Buffy. For an instant, she saw both recognition and raw desire there, and it seemed that time was literally slipping away. The last time she’d seen that look on his face was when she’d come back from the dead, and he’d seen her on the stairs. Then the look was gone, replaced by mild interest, the look you would give an old acquaintance you hadn’t seen for a while. “Buffy.”

           

“I see you remember the Slayer, Will,” Angel said. “And her sister Dawn?”

           

“Of course,” he said, reaching out to shake both their hands, his son still firmly planted at his side. “It’s good to see both of you here. I have a feeling we can use all the help we can get on this one.”

           

“Good,” Angel said, throwing a cautioning look at Buffy when it looked as though she might say something else. ‘Spike’s dead,’ his eyes seemed to say. ‘Get used to it.’ “Then let’s get started.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy had watched him all evening long, the way he moved, the way he fought, the way he spoke. He still wore the same dark colors he had in the past, but the pants were no longer ragged black jeans, and his shirt was blue silk. The way he fought was the same; he moved with the same grace, the same flash that he always had, giving Angel a hard time from his spot across the room, stepping in to help Emmie when she got herself into a sticky situation.

           

What wasn’t the same was the way his eyes slid right past her, the way he seemed to purposely avoid her. It made Buffy want to cry, because it was that avoidance that told her Angel had been right. Spike really was dead.

           

Dawn had chosen to stay behind with Lorne and Ty. Though her sister could fight with the best of them, she felt uncomfortable going into a fight with people she didn’t know well. What’s more, Buffy could see from her eyes that William’s presence made her uncomfortable; he was so like, and yet so not-like their dead vampire. And so now Buffy sat in the back of Wesley’s SUV with Emmie, with William in the front passenger seat. She couldn’t help but feel she was in a car full of strangers.

           

“Why on earth did you dye your hair, Will?” Wes asked from his position from behind the wheel. They had been lucky no one had gotten hurt. Some idiot of a warlock had decided to open a dimensional porthole and release a number of demons, and there had already been a few big ones waiting by the time they reached the point of disturbance.

           

Buffy’s ears pricked up in the back seat. The only thing that seemed to have remained the same was William’s bleached blonde hair, even though it was shaggier than it had been in the past, and not quite as slicked back.

           

He shrugged, and she could tell he was uncomfortable from where she sat. “It was a bet.”

           

Emmie piped up from behind him. “You know how Ty wasn’t real excited about getting his schoolwork done last quarter?” she asked. When Wes nodded, she continued. “Will and I promised that if he got all his assignments done, with no incompletes, and he read 50 books of a certain length over the summer, we would dye our hair. He got to pick my color, and I got to pick Will’s. That was the deal.”

           

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” William admitted, a certain rueful amusement in his tone. “But he kept us busy going to the library, and the next thing I know he’s reminding us of our deal.”

           

“Well, it seems to have taken,” Wesley said, barely hiding a smirk. “Ty was asking me the other day if I would start teaching him Latin.”

           

William shook his head. “Well, I’m bloody glad he decided he wanted to know a few more things than the right move in one of his sodding games. Took me ages to get him off of that thing last year.”

           

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that this time around,” Emmie said. “He’s pretty much sold on the learning thing. With any luck, you can ship him off to Oxford when he’s ready for college.”

           

“Cambridge,” both men said at once, and shared a smile. To say that Buffy felt left out would have been an understatement. She knew that Angel had his own friends here in L.A., and she’d expected to feel a little out of place with them. But to run across Spike, who’d been as close as her own shadow, one of the few people she’d trusted implicitly in those last days, and have him fit in where she did not—it was worse. Infinitely worse.

           

Especially since he wouldn’t even meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.

 

IV

 

Erin lay with her back against him, her breath coming in hitches and spasms. There wasn’t a point to her being in the hospital at this point; it was easier on the both of them if she could be at home, especially since they wouldn’t allow children into the ICU. William’s gentle fingers stroked her hair, and she felt herself melting into him. Almost five years of marriage, and she still wanted him. But it was an impotent sort of wanting these days; it had been over a year since she’d felt well enough to do much, and he’d still stuck by her.

           

“How’s Ty?” she whispered. Her laboring heart was warning her that she didn’t have much time.

           

“Asleep,” William replied, equally softly. “He was happy you were feeling well enough to talk for a while earlier.”

           

She smiled. “I want you to promise me something, William.”

           

“Anything, Erin-luv. You know that.”

           

She closed her eyes against the reproach in his tone, knowing that he would gladly switch places with her if he could, if it were even possible. And she, in her selfishness, was just as glad he couldn’t, because she didn’t think she could have borne another loss. “I want you to be happy.”

           

“Erin—”

           

“No, William,” she replied, her tone as strong as she could make it. “Someday you’ll meet someone else, and I don’t want you to hesitate because of me.”

           

He shut his eyes, holding back the tears, knowing she was slipping from him. She wouldn’t be saying these things if the end weren’t very near. “I promise, luv. I’ll try.”

           

She felt her breath shudder and hitch. “Come around where I can see you.” He shifted underneath her, and moved so that she lay against the pillows he’d stacked there, perching himself on the side of the bed. “You’ll look after Ty.”

           

“Of course,” he said. “He’s mine.”

           

“He has your eyes,” she agreed. “And he’s more yours than mine.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she gave a weak shake of her head. “I often thank God for sending you to me that night,” she whispered. “You came just when I needed you, and I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. It wasn’t coincidence, William.”

           

“No,” he breathed.

           

“You’ll tell him that I’ve gone to be with God,” she instructed. “I know you don’t believe it—”

           

“I don’t not believe it,” he corrected. “Hard to say, really. Erin, I’ll tell him. I’ll take care of him. You know it.”

           

“I know it.” Her breath was harder to catch now, and she couldn’t help but think of the million other things she wanted to tell him, and that she wouldn’t get to say any of it. “I can’t hold on, William,” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

           

“No,” he said, grasping her hand tightly. Oh, how he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to beg her to stay with him, but he loved her too much. For weeks now, she had been fighting for every breath, and now he wanted the battle to be over for her, for himself. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer any longer. “You go when you have to, luv. I’ll be here.”

           

She drew in a deep breath. “William, I love you,” she cried. And then her eyes opened wide at something he could not see. “Oh,” she sighed reverently. It was her last breath. William laid his head down on the bed and sobbed until the sun rose.

 

V

 

“Sod this!” William snarled angrily. “We’re not getting anywhere at all.”

           

Angel and Emmie looked at one another, their eyebrows raised. They had been going over Slayer placements for the last hour, with William getting noticeably more irritable as time went on. “Will, we have to get this done. Look, maybe we should call Buffy in on this. She’s had contact with most of the known Slayers—”

           

“Forget it,” he said, not at all appeased. “Just bloody well forget it. We’re not getting anywhere and we’re not going to. This is a waste of time.”

           

“Will, don’t you think—” Emmie began hesitantly.

           

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted rudely. “I’m out of here.”

           

They watched him go, and when the door slammed shut behind him, Angel turned and looked at the woman. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

           

She sighed. Hesitated. “He’s been dreaming,” she said softly. When Angel’s forehead creased in a puzzled frown, she continued. “Ty called me the other day at 2 in the morning. Will was moaning in his sleep, and he couldn’t wake him up. I finally had to dig out the smelling salts to pull him out of it.”

           

“Do you know what he’s been dreaming of?” Angel asked.

           

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” she said wryly. “I think he’d feel better if he would at least talk to her, but…”

           

“But William won’t even let Buffy within ten feet, and it’s driving everyone nuts,” he finished, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Buffy was miserable and hiding it badly, William was on edge, and no one was very happy, especially if they were in the same room with either of them. “Well, I think I will ask her to help with these assignments. Some of the girls don’t have any desire to follow the traditional calling, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need to know what’s going on.”

           

Emmie nodded. “Yeah. Look, I’d better go see to Will. Make sure he’s calming down.” She gave him a wistful look. “Are you sure we can’t just lock them in a room together until they hash things out?”

           

“Don’t tempt me,” he replied with a smile, his eyes following her admiringly until she was out of the room. That was a girl with some fine legs.

           

Buffy came in about ten minutes later. “Hey, Angel. I thought William was meeting with you now.”

           

“He bailed,” Angel said shortly. “I wanted to ask you to help me with some Slayer assignments. I just got word from Giles that there’s a few new hot-spots that are going to need some watching.”

           

Buffy nodded. “Sure. I didn’t have any plans for this afternoon.” Whereas a few years ago that might have been said with a great deal of sarcasm, at this point she was perfectly serious. She really hadn’t had any other plans.

           

“Great.” Angel hesitated briefly. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple favors.”

           

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “From the look on your face, this could result in much badness,” she commented.

           

“No.” His lips twitched at her distinctive phrasing. “I wanted you to start training Emmie. As the longest living Slayer on record, you could be invaluable to her. And while her job is fairly tame, if it ever gets dangerous—”

           

“Hers isn’t the only life on the line,” Buffy said, understanding completely. As a bodyguard, Emmie had a duty to be in the best possible condition. “Done. What’s favor number two?”

           

“Well, that one’s a little more awkward,” he admitted. “There’s a charity ball in two weeks that I need to attend. And I need a date.”

           

“And I’m it?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm.

           

He met her eyes squarely. “Look, Buffy, we haven’t always been friends, but I think we are now.” Angel waited for her nod before continuing. “I know this could be awkward, but there isn’t anyone else I’d be comfortable asking to go with me, and I’d like you to. As friends, I mean.”

           

Buffy nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted. What she really wanted was apparently out of her grasp, namely that William would come to his frigging senses and get his memories back. It seemed she’d have to settle for Angel’s friendship and accepting that _her_ Spike was well and truly gone, never to return. She hadn’t even realized until now that she’d harbored the tiniest grain of hope that he would come back. “All right,” she said slowly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to dance.”

 

VI

 

Buffy’s roundhouse sent Emmie flying into the padded wall of the training room. “Good,” she said, meaning it. “That was a good defense.” She watched as the girl picked herself up off the floor, making certain that she hadn’t been injured. “I think that’s enough for the day.”

           

Emmie smiled gratefully, wiping her face off with a towel. “Good, because I’m starving. You want to grab lunch somewhere? I know a good place close by.”

           

Buffy’s first impulse was to say no, to play up the ‘I’m _the_ Slayer and you’re a puny nobody.’ If she were completely honest with herself, she knew that she didn’t _want_ to like Emmie, mainly because she got to spend hours with William, who was still doing his best to avoid her. In truth, there was nothing to dislike about the girl. She was a sharp fighter, dedicated to her work, and had a wicked sense of humor. Buffy saw the dawning disappointment on the girl’s face and made a quick decision to squelch her petty jealousy. She was bigger than that. (Or, at least she wanted to be.)

           

“I’d love to.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy took an appreciative look at the small deli. “This is a great place,” she said. “I never would have known it was here.”

           

“Not if you relied on the guys,” was Emmie’s amused reply. “They’re more into the burgers and red meat, and you know how Angel is about people-food. I come here with Fred sometimes though.”

           

Buffy smiled. Emmie definitely reminded her of Faith, or what Faith might have been if she hadn’t gone over to the dark side. She still felt a pang of sadness, remembering the other woman’s death a few years ago. She and Robin had died in the same fight, going at it back-to-back. This girl had the same dark looks and lean musculature, but her hair was cut short and had been tipped with red. She had several mismatched earrings in each ear, and was wearing her trademark baggy pants and heavy boots with a tight t-shirt. Emmie definitely fit the stereotype of a punk, and she would have fit right in with Spike in the old days, Buffy suddenly realized. And with a suddenness that startled her, she wanted to know whatever she could about this girl, remembering the Slayers that had died in the cavern, some of whose names she hadn’t even known. “So, where are you from?”

           

Emmie looked up, startled by the question. “Angel didn’t say anything to you?”

           

Buffy shrugged. “He asked me to train you. Beyond that, I don’t know much. Why?”

           

“I grew up here, on the streets mostly,” she admitted. Emmie looked down at her salad. “When I tell people that, they usually give me this really pitying look, you know? I don’t talk about it much.”

           

Buffy felt a stab of sympathy for her, this girl who was just now discovering what it meant to be a Slayer and a woman, if her own memories of being 21 served. On the other side of things, she could relate. “I got that a lot after my mom died. I was about your age.”

           

Emmie gave her a grateful look. “Yeah, well, it’s not a big secret, I guess. My dad took off when I was a baby, and my mom remarried when I was like, three, so he was the guy I thought of as my dad. When I was 12 he started to, you know, notice me. I don’t know if mom knew about it or not, but I guess I’m still pissed that she didn’t stop him.” There was a satisfied smile on her face. “I was 13 when I got Called. From what Will and Angel have said, that’s probably when you activated all the Slayers. I broke his nose and tossed him out the door when he tried it with me that afternoon. And then I kicked him in the balls when I left for good. Never went back.”

           

There was nothing Buffy could think of to say to that. Somewhere inside, however, she realized yet again that activating all the Potentials had had ripple effects across the globe, some good, some bad. Here was an instance of it working out. “What happened then?”

           

“I lived on the streets till I was 18. Killed my first vamp when I was 15. Things started getting rough, and I knew I’d end up turning tricks or worse if I stayed out there. I’d heard about Wolfram & Hart and what they did, and I went to see William for a job.” Emmie smiled softly. “He was the first decent guy I ever met, you know?”

           

Buffy felt a pang of jealousy and stuffed it down. “You love him.”

           

“Who? William?” Emmie asked. “Yeah, I mean, he’s been like family to me. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if it weren’t for him.” Then understanding dawned as she saw the look on the older woman’s face. “You’re in love with him.”

           

“No!” Buffy looked panicked. “No, I mean, we’ve hardly said two words to each other.” Then, giving into Emmie’s implacable look, replied, “I’m in love with Spike. Apparently that’s not the same thing.”

           

The girl shook her head. “I can’t say, Buffy, since I didn’t know Spike, and I know a lot of people say that, but I don’t believe it. I’ve heard the stories about how he went and sacrificed himself to save the world, and I don’t believe someone who was really evil could do something like that.”

           

“He wasn’t really evil,” Buffy said softly. “Even before he got his soul, he loved me and Dawn. Spike almost died protecting us.”

           

Emmie was silent, digesting what Buffy had just told her. She didn’t want to see William hurt, but at the same time she knew he was miserable. And he didn’t know that Buffy loved Spike. That was big news. “He doesn’t remember getting his soul,” Emmie finally said. “What he does remember pretty much centers around the bad stuff, I think, even though he doesn’t talk about it.”

           

Buffy frowned, and Emmie continued. “In fact, from what I understand Will thinks you hated him, and from the way he talks, he figures you have every right to.”

           

Buffy understood. She and Spike had never been gentle with one another, not until that last year, and even then it had only been at the very end that they had finally come to a real understanding. It was no wonder William had been avoiding her like the plague. “What am I going to do?” she asked.

           

Emmie frowned. “Look, Will’s kind of gun-shy when it comes to women. He hasn’t dated in all the time I’ve known him, and that’s been about three years. Some of it is probably because of Erin and her death. But I think some of it is from before.” She paused. “It’s just a theory, but I think there are some things that happen to us that scar our souls so deeply that it effects us forever. What happened to Spike, where it concerned rejection, I think it still affects Will. Does that make any sense to you?”

           

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, actually that makes perfect sense.” She sighed. “So you think I’m stuck?”

           

“Did I say that?” Emmie asked. “I just think you’re going to have to be sneaky about it, that’s all. In fact, you’re going to have to ambush him.”

           

Buffy was skeptical. “Ambush? I’ve already tried that, and he just keeps running away.”

           

Emmie shook her head. “No, I mean a serious, all-out frontal assault. Look, Angel asked you to go to the charity ball on Friday, right?”

           

“Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?” she asked, taking another bite of her salad.

           

Emmie grinned. “William asked me to go with him, so I think we should switch dates.” When Buffy didn’t look convinced, she continued persuasively. “Both of them have to go, so if we switch at the last minute, they’ll have to live with it. Sure, they might be upset, but if both of them think we’re doing it for a good cause, they’ll get over it.”

           

Buffy was beginning to be interested. “And what good cause would that be?”

           

“Your crush on Will. Angel knows, so I’ll tell him I found out about it and offered to switch places with you.” The younger woman grinned mischievously.

           

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she picked up the flaw in her plan. “What am I supposed to tell William?” And it was her turn for the light bulb to turn on. She’d noticed that Emmie got slightly doe-eyed around Angel, but hadn’t thought much of it until right now since the younger Slayer had still kept up the smart-ass teasing. “You’re in love with Angel.”

           

“I’ve got a crush on him,” Emmie corrected her softly. “And I know the difference. And it’s stupid, because even if he noticed me like that, we couldn’t do anything about it. It’s not like I don’t know the stories.” She hesitated, wondering if she could really trust Buffy with the truth, a truth she hadn’t even confessed to Will. “I never got a prom, or anything like that. I just want a night…” She trailed off, unable to completely explain, but Buffy knew.

           

“I know.” She met Emmie’s eyes and smiled. “Trust me, I know. So, I take it William knows?” At the girl’s nod, Buffy smiled. “Then I tell William that I found out you have a crush on Angel and offered to switch places. And both of them think we’re being kind to the other.”

           

“Which we are,” Emmie said, smiling. “They just don’t know we’re being kind to ourselves as well.”

           

“Speaking of which,” Buffy winced. “I have to look for a dress now. As long as it was Angel, I didn’t have to do any serious dress shopping, but now…”

           

“Same here,” Emmie groaned. “And I have to pick Ty up in a little over an hour. There’s no way I’m going to have time to go shopping in between now and then.”

           

“Could we bring him with us?” Buffy asked, noting Emmie’s surprised look. “I mean, there’d be two of us to watch him, and I wouldn’t mind a second opinion.”

           

Emmie nodded slowly and then smiled. “I think Ty could be persuaded. As long as you aren’t against a little bribery.”

           

“Are you kidding?” And Buffy felt the first faint stirrings of hope as well as excitement. “I’m an expert at judicious bribery.”

 

VII

 

Ty was slurping his promised Orange Julius, as well as looking forward to dinner at McDonald’s, as he and Buffy waited to see the dresses Emmie was trying on. Along with the bribes, Buffy had managed to get him to agree almost graciously to the shopping trip by pointing out that they would need a man’s opinion, and he was elected. While he was fully aware of the fact that she was manipulating him, that didn’t change the fact that one of his childhood heroes _wanted_ him to come along. It made the whole shopping trip very cool.

           

Emmie had refused to leave him unattended in the store, even with both of them within earshot, so Buffy was waiting with him while Emmie tried on her choices, and then they’d switch places. “Okay, what do you think?” Emmie asked as she came out in dress number three.

           

“That’s the one,” Buffy said immediately, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s incredible.”

           

Ty nodded sagely. “You look really pretty in that one, Emmie.” The dress itself was a deep crimson color, with a loose neck and low-cut back that hugged every curve of her body. The slit up the leg left both everything and nothing to the imagination, and the color matched the red tips in her hair.

           

She smiled in return. “I thought so. I love it. Give me a second, Buffy, and then it’s your turn.”

           

Buffy had a much harder time. By the sixth dress, she was beginning to get frustrated. They didn’t fit, or they weren’t the right color, or it was the color of the dress she wore to prom, or it was too much like the dress that she’d worn when she’d (briefly) died at the hands of the Master. Nothing seemed to be working. “I don’t know,” she finally sighed, frustrated. “Maybe I should go somewhere else on a different day. This is getting old, and I know Ty’s probably bored out of his mind.” She gave the boy a sympathetic smile.

           

“It’s okay,” he said, hating to see his hero upset. “I don’t mind waiting.”

           

“How many more do you have in there with you, Buffy?” Emmie asked.

           

She shrugged. “Two more.”

           

“So try on the other two,” the girl suggested. “If neither of those work, we can go again tomorrow.” Emmie gave her an evil grin. “In fact, we could make Wes crazy by skipping training in order to go shopping.”

           

Buffy smiled in reply and went back into the dressing room. When she re-emerged, Emmie’s eyes widened, and Ty’s jaw dropped dramatically. “That’s it, Buffy,” Emmie breathed. Buffy’s dress was also form fitting, but in a green so dark as to be almost black, with something embedded in the fabric to make it shimmer. It was low-cut enough to show an appetizing amount of cleavage and bare in the back except for crisscrossing strips of fabric. And the slit up the leg would be enough to jump-start a rock’s imagination.

           

“That’ll make Dad’s eyes pop,” Ty said matter-of-factly.

           

Both women stared at him. “What are you talking about, kiddo?” Emmie asked. “You know I’m going with your dad.”

           

“Please,” he replied. “You’re going with Uncle Angel.”

           

“And how do you know that?” Buffy demanded.

           

He gave her a smirk that reminded her so much of Spike, it was scary. “I’m psychic, remember?” he asked. And then his grin broadened. “He fancies you, y’know.”

           

“How do you know that?” Buffy asked, suddenly realizing that she had a fount of information on the new Spike sitting right in front of her.

           

“He dreams about you, and he talks in his sleep,” Ty said. “And he’s told me stories about you since I was born, practically.”

           

“What kind of stories?” Buffy asked, suspicious.

           

Ty hesitated. “I don’t know if I should talk about it. It’s kind of private.”

           

“Name your price.”

           

Ty’s face lit up, and Buffy could see that she’d been manipulated by a master. “Two—no, three stories about my dad from before, when you knew him.”

           

Buffy hesitated, well aware that William may not like his son hearing about his days as Spike, and also knowing that few of those adventures were G-rated. “All right,” she agreed. “You’re on.”

           

Emmie groaned. “I should have asked for stories. I’ll bet some of those are even better than a date with Angel.”

 

Later that night, when William went to pick his son up from Emmie’s, he was somewhat disconcerted to find that Buffy was just leaving. And for some strange reason, Emmie kept looking at him thoughtfully and murmuring something about a black leather coat. There was just no understanding women at times.

 

VIII

 

William knocked on the heavy wooden door, feeling acutely uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but sense that this wasn’t the place for him, and yet he wasn’t sure why exactly. The man who answered was his own height and balding, dressed in black with the requisite clerical collar. “You must be William,” he said, shaking hands warmly. “Please come in. I have someone on the phone right now, but I’ll be with you in a moment.” Father Joseph Leary showed him into a comfortable study and then quickly ducked out again.

           

Here the feeling of being uncomfortable was still present, though not as strong. He wondered again what he was doing here, except that Erin had encouraged him to talk to Father Joe, as she called him. Who better than a priest to talk about sin and redemption, right? And he’d been her parish priest since she was a teen, and she trusted him. William wasn’t so certain, but he knew he needed to speak to someone, and he wasn’t sure that Erin was the right one, as biased as she was in his favor.

           

He wandered over to the wall, where a heavy wooden cross hung, the grain looking warm and mellow in the light from the dim lamps and the fireplace. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched it, half-expecting a reaction of some kind. But as he looked down at his unmarked fingers, he knew that it was only a body-memory, left over from a past he couldn’t remember.

           

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came the deep voice behind him. “A friend sent it to me from where he was stationed in Mexico. The people in his village have made wood carving their specialty.”

           

William turned slowly to face the priest. “I don’t belong here,” he confessed.

           

Father Joe regarded the younger man with deep compassion, Erin having told him a little of the story. “This is a house dedicated to God, son. There is no one who doesn’t belong here.”

           

He swallowed hard. “Has Erin told you anything?”

           

Father Joe waved him to one of the seats in front of the fire, the study walls reflecting the flickering light. “She’s told me a little, enough to understand why you’re here I think.” The priest looked at William, and then said bluntly. “You don’t think you’re a good man.”

           

“How can I be?” William asked. “Father, I have these dreams, and even if they aren’t real, if I didn’t do those things I dreamed of, how can a good man dream horrors?”

           

“They say evil men do the things that good men only dream,” Father Joe returned gently. “I know what you dream, William. Erin has told me a little, and she told me how you met. Do you believe you were a vampire at one point in time?”

           

The matter-of-fact way the priest said it caused William’s jaw to drop, and he chuckled. “There are those within the Church who believe evil exists only in the minds of men and in social injustice,” he admitted. “But there are those of us who know better.”

           

“I don’t know,” William said. “The dreams are so vivid, but I can hardly believe…”

           

Father Joe spoke quietly. “I am not you, William. Nor can I pretend to know what you are going through, having lost your identity. But I know this—Erin has been happier this last year since you have come into her life than I have ever seen her in the past. Knowing Erin, I know that only a good man could truly make her happy.

           

“Whatever you were, forget about it, William. You have been given a second chance, whatever your previous circumstances. Be thankful, and do your best. That is all anyone, even God, can ask of us.”

           

“Is atonement possible?” William asked, his voice troubled and plaintive.

 

“No,” Father Joe said softly. “Not by us. What we have done, cannot be undone, no matter how much we might wish it so. But redemption—redemption is always possible, as is forgiveness. Remember that, William.”

           

And William remembered until his dying day.

 

IX

 

Had she known it was the last dream, she would never have woken up. Buffy had been in L.A. a week, and William hadn’t said two words to her. The only thing that kept her going was dreaming of Spike. She’d had a particularly good one just before moving. This one was the first since she’d come to the city.

           

“Buffy,” he whispered into her hair. They lay on the beach, she in his arms, a light breeze stirring the air and the moon shining on the water.

           

“Please don’t go,” she begged. “I can’t stand to have you gone.”

           

“I told you, you have to find me,” he reminded her gently.

           

She shook her head almost violently, starting up from her position against his chest. “I did find you, and you won’t talk to me.” She paused, realizing it didn’t make much sense, but he smiled at her.

           

“I’m only truly myself here, luv,” he said. “I’m only whole in dreams, because I only remember in dreams. Just be patient, pet. It’ll take time.”

           

Buffy pouted. “I don’t want it to take time. I want you now.” And she kissed him hard to show him how much.

           

“Patience, luv,” he reminded her. “One of these days I’ll figure it out. And you’ll be the one that helps me.” He kissed her back, the moon gleaming white gold on his hair. “You have to find me, Buffy.”

           

And when she woke, she wept for fear she’d lost him forever.

 

X

 

Buffy was more nervous before this date than she’d ever been in the past. Perhaps it was because her feelings for Spike/William were so strong, and she had no idea how he felt, not really. She had to wonder if this was how Spike had felt that night he’d taken her on the stakeout, the “date” that had ended so badly. If she had known then what she knew at this moment, standing before his apartment door, she wouldn’t have treated him quite as badly. But then, hindsight was always 20/20, and she’d had no idea that his feelings were quite so real, or quite so strong. It took the grave, and a soul freely sought, and a cavern deep below the earth to teach her those hard lessons.

           

Ty opened the door at her knock, giving her a broad grin and an enthusiastic thumbs-up. She and the boy were solid friends since the evening spent story telling, and she thought it kind of funny that a little kid would think of her as a hero. She was more used to people not knowing about her existence at all. “You look awesome,” he said.

           

“Thanks, Ty,” she replied, following him inside, satisfying her curiosity as to the type of place William would be living in. In some ways, it reminded her of Spike. There weren’t a lot of frills around the place, a few pictures on the walls, plain curtains on the windows. The couch and chairs were overstuffed and comfortable looking, however, and there were toys and books scattered around, giving it a homey air that the crypt had never quite attained. In spite of herself, she really wanted to see what the bedroom looked like.

           

“Is Emmie here?” William’s voice came from his bedroom. “I’ll be right out, pet. Just give me a second.”

           

Ty clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle, and Buffy gave him a conspiratorial wink, pretending more confidence than she actually felt. A moment later, William came strolling out of the bedroom in a tux, his tie still hanging around his neck and his jacket hanging from one finger. “I can’t seem to get this bloody tie done up. Would you mind—” He froze as he realized that he was looking at Buffy and not his nanny. “B-Buffy? W-what are you doing here? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Angel?”

           

Amazing how his reticence vanished as soon as he thought he was getting ready for a fight, Buffy observed. Some things never changed. “No, nothing’s wrong, Sp—William. Emmie and I decided to switch dates this evening.”

           

Both his eyebrows went up, and he threw a quick glance at Ty before gesturing her into the kitchen. “What’s going on here, Slayer?” he asked, the familiar tone sending shivers down her spine. She wanted him, she realized. Right here, right now. Stifling her lust, she reminded herself that this was a delicate operation.

           

“Emmie and I were talking the other day, and she let it slip that she had a crush on Angel. I suggested that we switch dates, since I didn’t really care if I went with him or with someone else, and I knew she would appreciate it. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know if you’d go along or if you’d tell him.”

           

William ran a frustrated hand through his hair. His evening had just gone from simple to complicated in about five seconds. Though, if he had to be honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely displeased with the developments. “Right then,” he murmured. His face broke out into a wide, slightly self-conscious grin. “I’d love to see the look on the poof’s face when Emmie shows up at his door.”

           

“So would I,” Buffy admitted candidly. She didn’t often get to see Angel look surprised, but it was usually priceless.

           

“Well, since you’re stuck with me for the evening, would you mind helping with my tie?” he asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

           

She smiled at him, and began the business of setting his tie to rights. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I got the better end of the deal,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, and was rewarded by seeing his cheeks flush a faint pink.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Emmie didn’t think Angel would have too big a problem with the great switcheroo, as Ty had termed it. After all, it was just the other week that they had talked about locking Buffy and William in a room together. This was just a more civilized means of achieving the same end. Telling herself that was not settling the butterflies in her stomach, however.

           

She unlocked the door, using the key she’d purloined from William. There were sounds coming from his bedroom, and she sat quietly on the couch, waiting for him to emerge. “What the—” Emmie felt well rewarded for her stealth by the surprise in his voice.

           

“Hey, Angel.”

           

His eyes narrowed. “Where’s Buffy?”

           

“Well, you know how we were saying it might be a good idea to lock them in a room together?” she asked, grinning mischievously even as his eyes darkened with suspicion. “I found out Buffy still liked him, so I told her we should switch dates. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

           

Angel’s lips twitched suspiciously. Being around an eight-year-old had softened him up quite a bit. “Let me guess. You didn’t tell William about this.”

           

“Nah,” her grin grew even wider. “And I wish I’d remembered to have Ty snap a picture.”

           

Angel shook his head, somewhat in awe of her deviousness. “Who’s watching him tonight?” he asked.

           

“Robbi. She was in from London for the month and said she’d be happy to,” Emmie replied, referring to another Slayer.

           

“She’s good,” Angel said, agreeing with her choice. Then he watched as she stood and he got the full effect of her gown, the rich red glowing against her skin, the fabric accentuating every curve. “You look incredible tonight, Mary Elizabeth,” he said softly, liking the way her face glowed when he complimented her.

           

“Thanks,” she said, a touch of shyness in her voice. “So you’re not too disappointed I’m the one that showed up then?”

           

“No.” His cool hand reached out to take hers in a gentlemanly gesture. “Not in the least.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

The car ride to the Plaza was quiet, neither Buffy nor William sure of what to say. Finally Buffy decided to break the silence. She’d learned the hard way that you didn’t always have all the time in the world, and she wasn’t at all certain that William wouldn’t go right back to not talking to her once the evening was over. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

           

He looked over at her, surprised at her bluntness. “No, I—” He stopped at the look on her face. “Something like that,” he admitted.

           

“Why?” she asked.

           

William gave her a look tinged with both annoyance and amusement. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

           

His voice sent shivers down her spine. “Well, I was getting a little tired of trying to chase you down.”

           

William smiled a little bit. “Seeing you was too hard, Buffy,” he said frankly. “I—I know what I did to you, and I just—I just couldn’t do it.”

           

Buffy frowned. “That was over and done with years ago, William. You sacrificed yourself for the good of the world. Don’t tell me you’re beating yourself up for something you did when you were a different person entirely.”

           

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Buffy. I dream of the things I’ve done almost every night. I dreamed—” he broke off abruptly. “There are some things that aren’t forgivable. And I have a son now. I can’t afford to get involved in a relationship that’s gonna hurt me or Ty.”

           

Buffy was stung. The last thing she wanted was to hurt anyone, and she said so. “Look, I get that you don’t really remember everything about our relationship, but Spike was my friend. He was the one person I trusted more than anyone else in the world at the end. And I loved him.”  
           

He stared at her. It was the last thing he’d ever expected her to say. “But—what I did—”

           

“What you did was save the world,” Buffy replied. She watched as a shudder ran through him, and she felt a deep burgeoning love within her heart for this man who was so like, and yet so unlike the one she’d known. “We don’t really know each other,” she said. “Maybe we used to, but we’re both different people now. So let’s start over, blank slate.” She smiled, remembering the last time they’d had a blank slate. They’d made a pretty good team.

           

Buffy stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Buffy Summers.”

           

William took her hand, an awestruck look on his face. This was the first time he’d come face to face with part of his past that he’d just about destroyed, and found himself forgiven. “William Smith,” he replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Buffy.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

“So are they here yet?” Emmie asked, craning her neck to look around the room. Her hand was tucked through Angel’s arm, and she was searching anxiously for William and Buffy.

           

Angel looked down at his date, amused. Emmie was a couple inches taller than Buffy, but given how short Buffy was, that wasn’t saying a whole lot. He glanced over at the door and caught a glimpse of the blonde couple entering, Spike presenting his invitation to the doorman. “They just came in,” he reassured her. “Were you thinking they weren’t going to show up?”

           

She shrugged. “Knowing William? He can be a little erratic at times. He decides he doesn’t want to do something, then he won’t do it.”

           

Angel looked at Buffy from across the room and felt the old, familiar desire hit him, along with a sense of jealousy aimed at William. “Trust me, Will would be completely insane if he hadn’t decided to come.”

           

Emmie grinned. “I know. I helped her pick out her dress.”

           

A few minutes later, Buffy and William strolled up to meet them. Emmie thought they made a stunning couple, and she stole a look at Angel to see how he was taking the sight of them together. Other than a slight tightening of the jaw, he seemed to be doing fairly well. “So you decided to ditch me, huh?” he asked Buffy, deliberately keeping his tone light.

           

“I had my reasons,” she replied, sharing a look with Emmie. Both of the men thought they knew what she meant, even though they didn’t know the extent of the deception. To stem any potential questions, Buffy turned to William. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

           

He smiled in reply, suddenly feeling as though his greatest wish had been granted. And he hadn’t even known it was what he wanted. “Would you dance with me, Miss Summers?”

           

Emmie stole a look at Angel as they walked off and patted him on the arm. “Come on,” she said. “You need a drink, and then we can dance.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

“Fred looks good tonight,” Buffy said softly as they danced. They’d seen and greeted both Wes and Fred as well as Gunn and his date. There seemed to be a general consensus to let everyone retreat to their respective corners, however. Fred was busy saying something to Wes that made him smile. And Gunn couldn’t take his eyes off his date, a woman named Gwen who seemed to have at least a passing acquaintance with the rest of them, but whom Buffy had never met.

           

“Mm,” William agreed. “’Bout time the two of them stopped dancing around the issue. Took ‘em forever to get around to realizing that they liked each other.”

           

“What happened?” Buffy asked, always keen to get the latest gossip.

           

He chuckled. “Told Wes to hurry up and make his move. Then I took ‘em to Lorne’s and left ‘em by themselves.” He paused, and then observed, “Kind of like they’re all doing with us this evening.”

           

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Buffy replied primly.

           

He raised an eyebrow. “Minx,” William said with affection. “Like hell you didn’t. You and Emmie both were in it to your eyebrows.”

           

“How did you know?” she asked.

           

“Besides that little speech in the car?” he asked. Tenderly brushing her hair from her face, he glanced over at Angel. “The boss-man isn’t throwing a fit about me being with you, which means Emmie told him something to keep him calm. Plus, the dresses. Ty told me you took him shopping. Women only spend that much time picking out a new dress if the man’s important enough.”

           

“Shows how much you know about women,” Buffy teased. “We’ll look for any excuse to shop.”

           

“Maybe,” he laughed. “Don’t know as much as I should probably, since you’re all still a bloody great mystery to me.”

           

The song stopped, and there was clapping coming from all around them. “I think I need to get some air,” Buffy said. “Do you mind?”

           

“No, luv.” He offered her his arm. “There’s a balcony over that way.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Emmie watched the two leave from her position in Angel’s arms. She hadn’t thought he would spend as much time with her as he had, much less dancing with her. “They look good together,” she observed.

           

“They do,” Angel agreed, hardly believing the words were coming out of his mouth. But eight years had softened the edges of their relationship, even if it hadn’t extinguished the love they felt for one another. Truly, they had both managed to move on, and time had taught them that they could. “It was kind of you to let Buffy have him to herself tonight.”

           

Emmie looked up at him in surprise. “I couldn’t be selfish after finding out how she felt for him, Angel. It wouldn’t have been right.”

           

It was Angel’s turn to look surprised. “But I thought you—”

           

Emmie rolled her eyes. “You know, I swear you can’t have a platonic relationship with someone without everybody thinking you’re secretly in love.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not in love with William, Angel. I never have been.”

           

Angel read the truth in her eyes. “Emmie—”

           

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “I know already. You don’t have to say it. Let’s not ruin the evening, please. Just pretend for a minute that it’s me you want to be with, please?”

           

Angel ran a tender hand down the side of her face. “That’s easy.” Cool lips tasted hers, and he could scent her hope. “You’re not a hard person to be with, Mary Elizabeth.” As he said it, he realized that it was the truth. In some ways she reminded him very much of the women he’d loved before: Buffy with her fire and Cordelia with her sharp tongue. But she had an essence that was her own, one he could definitely get used to having around.

           

“And I thought you barely knew I existed,” she said softly, half teasing, half serious.

           

He smiled. “As if you were someone who could be overlooked.” Angel’s eyes darkened. “You know this isn’t going anywhere, don’t you?”

           

“I know the stories, Angel,” she replied calmly. “They don’t matter. Not tonight. Tonight is for dreaming.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy shivered slightly in the cool evening air, and even as she did, she could feel William drape his jacket across her shoulders. “Thanks.”

           

“My pleasure, luv.”

           

Stealing a look at him, she thought something was missing, and she blurted it out before she could think. “You don’t smoke anymore.”

           

“Guess I don’t,” he replied easily. “Gotta set an example for the kiddies you know. Plus, I’ve heard they’re not good for you.” William grinned at her easily.

           

The moonlight hit him squarely, and Buffy felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. To see him like this, whatever her intentions had been to let things progress suddenly, she wanted him with a passion. She wanted him to look at her in that old way he had, the way he’d looked at her in her dreams. “I missed you.”

           

“Buffy—”

           

“I know we’re starting over,” she continued, babbling now. “I know you’re not Spike, and that you don’t remember, and you probably don’t even know where this is coming from. But I dreamed of this so often, and what you would say and what I would say, and I have to say it. Because if I don’t say it now, you might not want to hear it later. You could leave again, because everyone always leaves, but I can’t stand to have you gone.”

           

Whatever protest he might have offered died on his lips, his eyes widening in surprise. “I told you, you have to find me,” he replied, repeating the words from the last good dream he’d had.

           

“Spike?” she whispered, searching his face for answers. “Wait, you dream, you remember…”

           

“Only when I’m in them,” he said. “They disappear like smoke when I wake, most of them. But the ones with you in them, those are the clearest.” William took a step closer, touching her cheek. “I couldn’t stand to speak to you because I knew you’d hate me, and in my dreams you told me you loved me.”

           

Buffy rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his warm arms slip around her. “In my dreams we’re always on the same beach,” she whispered. “And you hold me like you did at the end, like you are now.”

           

“And in some of my dreams, we’re doing a bit more than hugging, luv,” he said, his suggestive tone making her laugh. And remember.

           

“Those were some of the most memorable,” she admitted. “You need to know,” Buffy said suddenly. “You need to know what you were, William. Because there was a lot more to it that ‘you, evil, Slayer, good.’ There was so much…”

           

**“Show me,” he whispered, kissing her hungrily, feeling a desire that was both strange and familiar. “Show me what I was.”**


	3. Filling in the Blanks

“One look at love/and you may see/it weaves a web over mystery,/all raveled threads/can rend apart/for hope has a place in the lover’s heart./Whispering world,/A sigh of sighs,/The ebb and flow of the ocean tides,/One breath, one word/may end or may start/a hope in the place of the lover’s heart./Look to love/you may dream/and if it should leave/then give it wings./But if such a love is meant to be;/Hope is home, and the heart is free./Under the heavens/we journey far,/on roads of life/we’re the wanderers,/So let love rise,/So let love depart,/Let hope have a place in the lover’s heart.” ~Enya, “Hope Has a Place”

 

I

 

Titus William Smith was more frightened than he had ever been in his young life. A reluctant whimper escaped his throat as he thought about the men who had grabbed him from the school.  He had known they weren’t from Wolfram & Hart; his gut had told him that, even though he thought maybe he’d recognized one of them. His dad had always told him to listen to his instincts and he hadn’t, so it was his own fault he was in this mess.

           

That thought gave him enough strength to stifle the tears that were still threatening. Buffy had told him that his dad was a hero, and Uncle Angel was a hero too. And Buffy and Emmie were heroes because they were Slayers, and so were Uncle Wes and Uncle Gunn and Aunt Fred. So he had a duty to be a hero just like his dad. Buffy had told him that a very bad woman had tortured his dad for information, but he’d kept quiet because he knew if he didn’t Buffy and her sister would get hurt. He’d be brave like his dad.

           

“Bloody hell.” Ty whispered his father’s favorite curse. Dad would kill him if he ever heard him say it. So he said it again, and then he repeated every bad word that came to mind, including a few that he’d overheard Uncle Angel use when he wasn’t supposed to be listening. Feeling much better, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the ropes encircling his wrists. Uncle Wes had taught him the spell, but you had to be calm and focused to use it.

           

“Eximete.” He wasn’t strong enough to actually have the ropes dissolve, but they loosened up enough so that he could twist out of them. He grinned proudly and held out his hand, concentrating again. “Lumos.” A tiny light danced in the middle of his palm, and he could now see the room they’d tossed him into. It looked like a janitor’s closet, but it could be anywhere in the city. They’d put a bag over his head once they’d gotten him into the car, so he had no clue where he might be.

           

Frowning, he looked at the door, holding out a hand to unlock the door just as Uncle Wes had taught him. Then he paused. If he went out the door, and there was someone there, he’d just be leaping from the frying pan into the fire, as Aunt Fred would say. Dad always told him that you didn’t need brawn, just brains to survive in the world. The guy with the brains would beat brawn every time. “Of course,” Uncle Angel would always reply. “It doesn’t hurt if you have both, William.” And then they would usually get into one of their fights that weren’t really fights at all.

           

He whispered the word for the unlocking spell, hearing the faint click and then turned to look at the ventilation shaft above him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime, which he figured he could use to unscrew the fasteners. Ty smiled. He was out of there. 

 

II

 

“Uh, hi,” Buffy said nervously as William opened the door to his apartment.        

 

He smiled, equally nervous. “Come on in. Glad you could make it, luv.” William stepped aside to let her enter.

           

“Dawn should be right behind me. She thought she might have to leave early, so we thought we’d take separate cars.” Buffy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and handed him the bottle of red wine. “I hope you like.”

           

“I’m sure I will,” he smiled. “Hope you like lasagna. My specialty.”

           

“It smells fabulous.” There was a long, awkward pause, and Buffy finally said, “So, Angel has Ty tonight?”

           

William glanced over at her, gesturing to the table set for three. “Yeah, it’s a regular thing. You wouldn’t think it of the big poof, but he and Ty are fast friends. Though, I think he and Emmie were taking Ty to a movie tonight. Nice to see those two are finally getting along.”

           

“They were fighting?” Buffy asked. She hadn’t really gotten that vibe from either of them.

           

He shook his head. “No, but they’ve been fighting this thing for about the last year. Could see it coming from about a mile away, you know.”

           

Buffy didn’t know, but then she hadn’t been around. “You know, Spike—” She broke off. “Sorry. William.”

           

“No,” he interrupted. “S’okay if you call me Spike, Buffy. Sounds right coming out of your mouth somehow.”

           

She smiled reflexively. “It feels right,” she admitted. She might have said more, but there was a knock on the door, and then Dawn was there.

           

The evening went better than any of them had hoped. There was the usual talk over dinner, of things they were doing, of things they had done, all in the recent past. Dawn talked about how graduate school was going, as well as how she liked working with Wesley in archives. Buffy talked about the other Slayers and living in L.A., and basically how it felt not to be in the middle of trouble more than half the time. And William talked about his job and working with Angel and his son, with an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.

           

But when dinner had been consumed, as well as a couple glasses of wine apiece, the talk turned to the past. “It was hard to lose you,” Dawn said. She was sitting on one of William’s armchairs, a glass of wine in her hand and a far-away look in her eyes. “I mean, I really thought I hated you for the longest time, and when you died, I realized how much I didn’t. How much I’d missed you.”

           

There was a long silence, and Buffy whispered. “You think you have all the time in the world, even when you know it’s probably the end.” She took a swallow of her drink, looking over at William’s thoughtful face. They had just gotten done explaining that last year to him, Buffy telling him things that even Dawn hadn’t known about. About how he’d come after her and found her in that house. How they’d spent the last three nights together, just holding one another. How they had loved each other. “I really never thought you would be the one to die,” she said. “I mean, I’d already died twice, I couldn’t really think about living through another apocalypse. And you were supposed to be invincible. You were the one that stayed.” 

 

He shook his head. “I don’t remember much at all. There are bits and pieces that I’ve dreamed, and sometimes I’ll remember those, but—” William glanced over at Dawn. “We played cards together. And you said you’d set me on fire.”

           

Dawn laughed and looked a bit sheepish. “Two totally separate occasions, I promise. We were really close the summer after Buffy died. You looked after me, and then when she came back…”

           

Buffy winced. “Everything went to hell. That wasn’t entirely Spike’s fault.”

           

“No.” Dawn looked over at her sister. They still had their secrets, but they’d talked about that summer finally, and about the aftermath of Buffy’s return. She and Buffy shared a look, and Dawn stood. “I think I should probably go. I need to be up early tomorrow.”

           

Neither Buffy nor William asked what she had to be up early for since it was Friday night. They were both feeling the need for some privacy. William followed her to the door. “Don’t be a stranger, Dawn,” he said. “You need anything, just let me know.”

           

Dawn stared at him. “Same goes here, Spike.” Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed him in a tight hug, something they’d never had a chance to share while he was a vampire. “I’m glad you’re around, in some form or another. I missed you.”

           

He didn’t reply except to run a tender hand down her hair. Doing so felt like a missing piece falling into place. “You’re quite a woman, Little Bit.”

           

Dawn blinked back tears, surprised to hear the familiar nickname coming out of his mouth. “’Night, Spike.”

           

When he came back into the living room, he and Buffy shared a long look. “So, do you want to go first or should I?” she asked.

           

He shrugged, uncomfortable. With Dawn there, he had at least a semblance of protection and distance from the fragments of his past that haunted him. Honesty being the best policy, he decided to move forward. “I have this dream,” he confessed. “Where we’re—we’re in a bathroom. And I hurt you. How much—?”

           

“How much of that really happened?” Buffy replied gently. “Pretty much all of it. I won’t lie to you, Spike. Things got really twisted between us at one point. But that’s why you went to get your soul in the first place, because you felt so guilty over what you’d tried to do. Just for your information, vampires as a rule don’t feel guilt, so that was pretty remarkable.”

           

William fiddled with his wine glass. “Why didn’t you stake me, Buffy?”

           

She bit her lip. She’d never been entirely sure of the reason herself, except that the only moment she might have been able to do it had been that moment she’d seen him again for the first time. And in that moment she was so stunned, and so happy to see him, that she wouldn’t have been able to kill him. “I couldn’t,” she replied simply. “Like I said before, our relationship was really complicated. And there are things that I’m so glad you don’t remember.”

           

When William met her eyes it was with the same vulnerability that Spike had showed at the end. Buffy suddenly realized that she knew this man possibly better than anyone else, because she had known Spike-with-a-soul, and that was who he was. He might not know it yet, but all the marks were there. “What are we doing, Buffy?”

           

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m still in love with Spike, and I always will be. And like it or not, you really are him. That’s not a bad thing. But you’re also a different person now, so I guess it’s up to you. What do you want to do, William?”

           

He shook his head. “There’s a part of me that’s telling me to run, that this won’t turn out good, and I’ve got a family, Buffy. I can’t afford to go making poor choices like that. But there’s this bigger part of me that just feels—complete when you’re near me. As if everything is falling into place, all those missing pieces I lost somewhere. And maybe it’s selfish, but I _want_ to feel whole again, luv. I want you, and I think a part of me has been missing you forever.”

           

This was different, she knew. This wasn’t about the passion or the sex or the lust, though all of that was there. This was about two grown-ups who had separate lives trying to figure out if they could make a go of it. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wasn’t a vampire, and so everything was different. “I want to be with you,” she said.

           

A smile lit up his face, and it was as though the sun itself had finally come out. “I want to be with you too,” he replied, almost shyly. And Buffy knew what he meant when he talked about missing pieces falling into place.

           

III

 

William tenderly sponged the sweat from Erin’s forehead with one hand, his other held in her tight grasp. “You’re doing just fine, luv,” he encouraged.

           

She threw him a grateful look, but said nothing. Her labor had been hard for the past few hours, and she had little energy to spare for words. The doctor looked up from his position between her legs and added his own words of encouragement. “I can see the head now, Erin. You’re almost there. Just a couple more good pushes.”

           

Erin nodded and bore down, and William was amazed at her stoicism. She had been calm and controlled for most of the labor, and he thought that it was a little unusual, since he’d heard stories from some of the expectant fathers in Erin’s Lamaze classes. (Though, in all fairness, she couldn’t really blame the pregnancy on him, whether his name was going on the birth certificate or not.) His heart nearly broke for love of this woman.

           

A few moments later, and the doctor gave a cry of triumph, perfectly timed with Erin’s own cry of pain. The sound of a baby’s wail broke through all other noises in the delivery room, and the doctor smiled at him. “Congratulations, Dad. You’ve got a healthy baby boy.” William watched in awe as one of the nurses clamped the cord and handed him the scissors. Hesitantly, he snipped it where he was told, and a moment later he held his son in his arms.

           

There are some who don’t believe in fate, who believe all things in life come by chance. If William had ever been in that category, he ceased from that moment onward. Because as soon as the tiny boy was placed in his arms, his crying ceased, and he opened his blue eyes to stare into William’s own.

           

It was as though time had stopped, and nothing remained except the feeling of perfection. It didn’t matter that the blood that ran through the boy’s veins was none of his own, that he hadn’t a clue to his own past. In this boy’s eyes, his son’s eyes, he saw his future. And it was enough.

           

“What are you going to call him?” one of the nurses asked, smiling at the obvious bond between father and child, always so nice to see.

           

He looked over at Erin’s exhausted face and thought she’d never looked more beautiful. She smiled at him. “His name is Titus William Smith.”

 

IV

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind coming with me, Buffy?” Emmie asked. It was a moot question, since they were well on their way to Ty’s school, but she hated to drag the other woman along on what was, essentially, her job.

           

Buffy shrugged. “Of course not. Ty’s a great kid. And I thought I might take him to spring Spike and we could go to the park.”

           

Emmie smiled at her. “I think it’s so great that you two are working things out. I’ve been telling Will for a while that he needed to tell you he was still alive. Or, at least, that he was alive to begin with, you know.”

           

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think we finally worked that out. He was stubborn when he was a vampire too, though, so it’s not all that surprising. Idiot,” she said fondly.

           

“Is he really that much like Spike?” Emmie asked out of curiosity. She had her own theories on the subject, of course, but she was wondering if she would get some validation.

           

Buffy grinned. “Oh yeah. You know that thing he does with his head? When he’s really frustrated and he looks down at the ground like he’s counting to ten or something? Still there.”

           

Emmie let out a peal of laughter. “I can’t tell you how many times he’s looked at me like that! And when he cocks his head to the side, as if he’s looking right through you. It’s almost spooky the way he knows what you’re thinking sometimes.”

           

Buffy’s grin became a small smile. “Yeah. I remember that look too. It used to infuriate me while I was still pretending to hate him.”

           

“And then?”

           

“And then it became one of the reasons I trusted him.” Buffy followed Emmie into the school office. According to the nanny, no one was allowed to pick Ty up unless they were on a specific list, and even then they had to show some form of identification.

           

Emmie didn’t recognize the secretary at the desk, but pulled out the badge that most of the employees from Wolfram & Hart carried. “Hi, I’m here to pick up Ty Smith.”

           

The young secretary’s eyes widened. “Someone came and picked Ty up hours ago.”

           

Emmie’s eyes narrowed even as her heart jumped into her throat. “Who?”

           

“I—I don’t know. They had the same kind of identification you do, though,” she said quickly, defending herself.

           

Emmie’s eyes met Buffy’s, who was beginning to feel the edges of terror herself. “I want to speak with the principal immediately,” she insisted.

           

The principal, a dark skinned man of Latino descent, came out to greet them. “Miss Carletti. It’s good to see you.”

           

Emmie didn’t bother returning his greeting. “Mr. Salazar. This is Buffy Summers, an associate of mine and Mr. Smith’s. Your secretary just informed us that Ty was picked up this afternoon by two men, without my knowledge or consent.”

           

Mr. Salazar turned to the girl, who was looking rather frightened. “Is this true, Amy?”

           

“They had identification, Mr. Salazar,” she protested.

           

“Were they on the list of those approved to pick Ty up?” he asked.

           

“List?” she replied in a very tiny voice.

           

Alarm began to grow, a tension so thick the whole room seemed filled with it. “Did you get their names, or at least a description?” Buffy asked quickly.

           

Tearfully, Amy admitted she hadn’t gotten their names, and she could give only very general descriptions. It wasn’t going to help them at all. “We’ll have to call the police,” Mr. Salzar said gravely. “I’m very, very sorry, Miss Carletti.”

           

Emmie nodded, her face grim. “I’ll let William know. It’s probably best if the resources of Wolfram & Hart are used in this case. We have strings to pull the local police don’t know anything about.”

           

The man nodded and went back into his office, and Emmie turned to Buffy. “This will kill him,” she whispered. “William’s whole life is that kid.”

           

“I know,” Buffy replied. “We’re going to get him back, though.” Her eyes glinted with a hardness Emmie hadn’t seen before, and she realized that she was looking at _the_ Slayer. “And then we’re going to make the bastards who did this pay.”

 

V

 

“I never thought I’d get to do this,” Buffy said smiling, as she and William walked side-by-side down the sidewalk. Ty was riding his scooter up ahead of them, racing ahead and then waiting impatiently just like any other eight-year-old boy. It was hard to remember how not typical he was at times. Just like his father.

           

“What, luv?” he asked, glancing down at her, his bleached hair shining in the sun. He’d let it grow out a little, so that his dark roots showed, but Buffy thought he would keep it bleached. It really was a good look on him, especially as it was now.

           

She waved a hand vaguely. “This. You, me, sunshine. Kid. All of the above.”

           

William shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, feels weird to me too.”

           

Buffy’s eyes were caught by Ty as he stooped to look at something on the sidewalk. She felt a sudden twisting of her heart. “Do you miss her? Ty’s mom, I mean.”

           

William frowned slightly. “Yeah, I do. She was a good woman, gave me a place when I didn’t have a clue who I was. Erin gave me Ty. I’d love her for that alone.”

           

“I wish I’d been there,” she confessed. “I hate to think of you going through all that on your own.”

           

“I wasn’t alone though, Buffy,” he corrected her gently, understanding her jealousy, at least a little.

           

She smiled, letting him know there was no bitterness there. “I know. And it’s probably a good thing that there was some time between, you know? Sometimes you have to lose something to know how much you needed it in the first place.”

           

William wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a show of solidarity. “Yeah. Can’t lie to you, luv, I can’t really miss what I don’t remember, but if I hadn’t been with Erin, I never would have known Ty. Wouldn’t give him up for anything.”

           

“No,” Buffy agreed. “He’s pretty wonderful.”

           

“Never believed in fate till the day I held him,” he said quietly. “Erin asked me pretty early if I’d put myself down as his dad, and I didn’t mind. Felt grateful to her for everything she’d done for me, and we were both pretty much on our own. No one else to hold on to really. I figured I’d love him, but when I looked into his eyes—” William’s own blue eyes held a reverence Buffy couldn’t remember ever seeing before. “I knew I was meant to be his dad.”

           

“Does he know?” she asked, and he didn’t need clarification to understand her question.

           

“Yeah, enough. He knows that Erin asked me to be his dad, but we told him his biological dad’s a sperm donor. Erin never knew different, I guess, and there’s no way to track the bugger down. When he gets older, we’ll tell him the rest, but for now he knows what he needs to.”

           

Buffy couldn’t imagine what that conversation would be like. On the other hand, Ty had so many people who had chosen to be his family, that he couldn’t help but feel loved. “Well, you’ve done a really good job with him, Spike. You couldn’t ask for a better kid.”

           

He smiled, grateful for the compliment even as he gently brushed it aside. “Thanks. But I couldn’t have done it on my own.” They had reached their destination, and Ty was immediately on the monkey bars of the large playground, swinging himself across with an ease even a Slayer could envy. She sat down next to William on a bench, soaking up the afternoon sun.

           

“Buffy?”

           

She glanced over at him, taken aback slightly by the bashfulness in his tone. “Yeah?”

           

“Could I—?”

           

Buffy glanced down and took the hand he was offering her, entwining her fingers with his. This felt good, right, as though this was what she was meant for. And she let herself savor the moment of sun and warmth and a child’s laughter.

 

VI

 

Buffy dreaded this, more than she’d ever dreaded anything in her life. Emmie had asked her to go back to the office to let William and Angel know what had happened while she stayed to talk to the police when they came. Emmie had every belief that the LAPD would most likely leave the details of the kidnapping to the law firm, as it had a rather solid reputation around the city for being able to deal with a number of different problems that needed solving. And neither she nor Buffy had any doubts about the crime itself. It had been directed at Ty specifically, and thus at William and/or Angel, which meant the motivation most likely had at least one foot in the world of the supernatural.

           

But that meant that she was the one elected to tell William the bad news, and she knew what it was going to do to him. She knocked on the door of his office perfunctorily before entering, her grim face stopping the secretary from voicing more than a single word of protest.

           

He looked up, his eyes lighting with pleasure when he saw her. “Buffy! Did you and Emmie pick Ty up then?”

           

She shook her head, and something in her gaze made him flinch noticeably. “I’m sorry, William,” she said softly.

           

“What happened?” he whispered. Buffy hesitated, and his voice grew stronger. “What happened, Slayer?”

           

“Someone snatched Ty,” she replied bluntly, thinking that quick was best in this case. “When Emmie and I got to the school the secretary told us someone had already come to pick him up. They had identification from the office, but she didn’t know enough to check their names against the list.”

           

William’s face had drained of all color, and he put one trembling hand over his eyes. “Bloody hell. What do we know?” he asked.

           

“That’s about it,” Buffy said. “Emmie stayed to talk to the police, but I doubt there’s much they can do. I’m going to call Angel and the others. We’re going to need to have a meeting and get things set up. They’re not going to get away with this.”

           

William shook his head, tossing off the terror and shock that had grabbed at him. “No,” he agreed. “They’re not.”

           

 

An hour and a half later they were all seated around the table in the large conference room Angel preferred for private meetings. It was shielded not only from the latest in technological listening devices, but also from magic of all kinds. Wes, Fred, Gunn, and Lorne were all in various stages of shock and anger, ready to go, but also focused on the problem at hand. Namely, that they had no way of finding Ty.

           

Angel paced at one end of the room, while Buffy kept a tight grip on William at the other end. He wasn’t falling apart precisely, but he was angry and impatient. Dawn was seated on the other side, throwing concerned glances from her sister to Angel and then over to William while they all waited for Emmie to return from the school. Buffy had placed a call to Willow only a few minutes before, asking for her friend’s magical expertise and whatever help she could give. They didn’t have to wait much longer before Emmie returned.

           

“Stupid cops,” she said as she entered. “They basically told me to go home and wait for word. ‘He’ll turn up. Don’t worry.’” Emmie gave a snort of anger. “He’s eight, not eighteen.”

           

“My fault,” Angel rumbled, passing a hand over his face. “They know enough by now not to even pay any attention to what goes on at Wolfram & Hart. Apparently that applies to missing family members as well.”

           

“Not a whole sodding lot of good they could do anyway, pet,” William sighed. “From what Buffy said, they’re bloody clueless as to who turned up to grab him in the first place.”

           

“Clueless is right,” Buffy agreed. “We couldn’t even get a decent description out of that girl.”

           

“Could she be in on it?” Gunn asked. “Let them through, so to speak?”

           

Buffy shook her head. “No. I know people, and she didn’t have anything to do with it. Not that she’s not an idiot, but she’s not malicious like that.”

           

William shook his head. “Dammit! I’m not sitting around here waiting for the sky to fall in!” he exclaimed. “We should be doing something.”

           

“We are doing something,” Angel replied. “Wes, I want you to check out the archives for any prophecies that might pertain to this. I know we’ve looked for specifics concerning Ty in the past, but run down anything that might be happening within the next few days. Dawn, I want you to help him.” He looked at Lorne. “Talk to your contacts, find out what they know. Anything at all. You know what I’m talking about.”

           

“You’ve got it Angel Cakes,” Lorne said, his green skin pale with distress.

           

“Fred, I want you to get the phones ready in case someone calls. Make sure we can monitor and record the call. Gunn, get a unit ready. I want our best, most reliable people on this, only the ones we trust.”

           

When everybody had left to fill their assignments on Angel’s orders, William looked over at the older vampire. “And what about you and me, Angel? What are we supposed to do?”

           

“We wait,” Angel said, with more calm than he felt.

           

William’s eyebrows went up and he shot to his feet. “Wait?! I told you, I’m not sitting here while someone’s got my son!”

           

“And what are you going to do, Will?” Angel demanded. “What if someone calls wanting to talk to you? Huh? We won’t get anywhere with you haring off who knows where.”

           

William would have said something to regret later if Buffy hadn’t laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Willow’s on her way, Spike. If anyone can, she should be able to find him.”

           

“With magic?” he asked, his lips twisted in a sneer. “What good’s magic gonna do us?”

           

“As I recall,” Buffy said calmly. “It was magic that let you and I save the world the last time we faced an apocalypse together. And it happened to be Willow’s magic that helped us.”

           

Angel and Emmie looked from one to the other, and then slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the two alone. “Buffy, I can’t lose him.”

           

“You won’t,” she said, with as much force and assurance that she could muster. “I promise you, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

           

He shook his head. “You might not be able to stop it, luv. I might not be able—” William broke off, trying not to choke on the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He might have been a warrior, but he was a father first and foremost.

           

“Then we’ll do our best. That’s all we can do.” Buffy pulled him into her arms, trying to give him whatever strength she could spare. “And it’ll be enough. It always has been before.”

           

VII

 

Emmie opened her door to find Angel standing in front of her. “Hey,” she said, a little surprised by his presence. Ty was spending the night with Wesley to give both her and Will a little break, and she knew Angel was aware of that, so she couldn’t figure out why he would be at her door.

           

“Uh, hi,” he replied, a little nervous. “Are you busy?”

           

Emmie frowned. “Is something wrong?”

           

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he replied quickly. “I just thought you might, you know, want to eat something.”

           

Emmie blinked, not sure that she was hearing him right. Angel didn’t eat people food as a general rule. Once in a great while, he’d take Ty out to eat, and then he’d have something for appearances’ sake, but otherwise he stuck to blood. “You’re hungry?”

           

“Yeah, well, actually, no,” he admitted, looking down at the ground. “I was thinking you might be though.”

           

Emmie stepped back and motioned him inside. “Do I need to change?” she asked, amusement coloring her tone. She was wearing baggy dark pants and a tight red shirt.

           

“You don’t have to,” he said. “Though, if you want to go somewhere nice…”

           

She grinned at him. “You offering to cough up the dough for a decent dinner?”

           

“Up to you,” came the almost cheerful reply.

           

Emmie got a sly smile on her face and shrugged. “I’ll be out in a minute then.” She wasn’t exaggerating. A few minutes after she disappeared into her bedroom she was out, now dressed in a criminally short black skirt, a hint of makeup on her face, and her red-tipped spiky hair mussed. She was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Even if Angel was typically a neck man, he knew how to appreciate a nice pair of legs. And she knew exactly the kind of impression she was making.

           

Angel held out an arm wordlessly, and she took it.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Later that night, after an incredible dinner, Emmie found herself sitting across from a quiet Angel. “What’s this about?” she finally asked. “Don’t get me wrong, this has been great, but—” Emmie broke off. Other than the guys she worked with, she had little good experience with men. And three good years weren’t nearly enough to erase eighteen rotten ones, so there was no surprise that she was a little hesitant.

           

“I like you,” he said softly. When she remained silent, he continued. “This isn’t easy for me, Emmie. I have a tendency to have really bad luck when it comes to falling in love. But you make me want to give it a shot.”

           

Emmie was silent for a long time. “What happened to ‘this isn’t going anywhere?’”

           

Angel shrugged. “I figured out that that wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t know where this is going, but I wanted you to know how I felt.”

           

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I told you that I think I’m falling in love with you?” she asked quietly.

           

And Angel smiled at her, looking as happy as she’d ever seen him. “I don’t mind a bit.”

 

VIII

 

It was a tableau of shock. Angel and William stood shoulder to shoulder in the old warehouse watching as an old nemesis held a frightened Ty by the scruff of the neck. The light in the large open room was spotty, provided by ancient fluorescent tubes. And they were out-numbered at least four to one, preventing them from making any move at all on Race, who laughed at their predicament.

           

Only a few hours before, Willow had been working on the locator spell even as the phone rang. It wasn’t a ransom demand, however, but a request for a meeting, directed at Angel mostly. “It was Race,” Angel said quietly.

           

Buffy didn’t know what he was talking about, but Emmie and William recognized the name immediately. Race was a vampire, but he was also an arms dealer who delighted in spreading all kinds of chaos and mayhem any way he could. Angel had shut him down a few months before William had come to work at Wolfram & Hart, but it was a well-known story. The investigation and the ensuing fight had lasted a good three months, and Angel had lost four good fighters. The assumption had been that Race had been dusted sometime during the battle. Apparently, they had been wrong.

           

Angel quickly explained the background to Buffy, who frowned. “Did he want money?”

           

“No, he wants a meeting.” He looked over at William, and they shared a look. For all their differences, they understood one another quite well, especially when it came to the battle.

           

William’s grim face was evidence of his understanding. “He’s looking for revenge, Angel.” There was a long silence. “We’re going, of course.”

           

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Wait a minute, Spike. Think about this.”

           

“Race wants a meeting, he’ll get a meeting. Otherwise you know what he’ll do to Ty.”

           

Buffy reached out and grabbed his arm. “Listen to yourself. If he wants revenge badly enough, the best way to do it would be to make sure you never get your son back. At least let Willow finish the locator spell, make sure that Ty is at the meeting place. If he is, fine. We’ll go in and get him out. If not, you can make the meeting and send a different team to pull him out.”

           

William shook his head. “We don’t have time, Buffy.”

           

“A few more minutes,” Buffy insisted.

           

“Listen to her, Will,” Angel said quietly from his position leaning up against the wall. Emmie stood next to him, her hand tucked supportively through his arm in an unobtrusive gesture of affection. “She’s right. We can’t afford to go off half-cocked.”

           

“He’s my son!”

           

“I love him too, William,” Angel replied calmly. He had learned it was best to keep a cool head when William lost his temper. It seemed to calm things down eventually.

           

William might have protested more, but just then Willow came dashing in. “I’ve got it,” she said. “I’ve got a location.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

It had been a command-level decision. Angel was the one to put his foot down this time, and William backed him up completely. “We’re going in alone,” Angel said. “Race sees anyone else and he’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

           

Buffy reluctantly agreed, knowing that they would be facing a superior force without the benefit of surprise. “What about us?”

           

“Wes, Gunn, take a team and surround the outside. Give us fifteen minutes and then start working your way in,” William said. Then he looked over at Buffy. “You and Emmie find a way in. Give us a few minutes to get inside and then follow however you can. If they don’t have Ty right out in the open—”

           

“We’ll find him,” Emmie finished. “We’ll get him back, Will.”

           

He tried a smile and just managed it. “Sure we will.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

Everything had gone according to plan up to that point. Angel and William had made their way inside with no interference, finding Race with his men and Ty where he’d said they’d be, in the main storage room of the warehouse.

           

“So you showed,” Race said smirking. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

           

“Hand over the boy,” Angel said, his face dark with anger. He could feel William literally trembling beside him like a dog wanting off the leash, ready to attack.

           

Race laughed. “Come on, Angelus. You didn’t actually think you were going to march in here and demand his return just to have me turn him over, did you? This isn’t about demands.”

           

“So what is this about?” William asked. “You have my son. I want him back.”

           

The vampire laughed again. “This is about revenge,” he replied. “And you should choose your friends more carefully if you want to keep your brat safe, William. Angelus here has an unhealthy habit of acquiring enemies.”

           

“This is about you and me, Race,” Angel said. “Leave the boy out of this.”

           

“You aren’t getting your brat back, Angelus,” Race replied. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I didn’t want you here to make a deal, I wanted you here to see my little present.” And with that he impatiently shook Ty by the back of the shirt.

           

William took a step forward as if to attack and then froze at what he saw. His son’s face melted away to reveal the visage of a demon. There was something obscene about turning a child, but it seemed an even greater affront when that child was your own. “No,” he protested.

           

Angel was equally stunned, and a great rage flowed through him. “You bastard.” He was already moving towards the vampire, superior numbers be damned, when Race drove a stake through the child-vampire, and he disappeared into a puff of dust.

           

“NO!” William screamed, just as a compact body hit Race from the side. The vampire went down, but not before a knife appeared in his hand, and he drove it through Emmie’s side. Race stood, knife still in hand, next to her lifeless body.

           

“Next?” he called, his minions coming in to surround both Angel and William, cutting them off from all hope of getting out of there alive. It might have gotten really bad had Race not frozen, surprise written all over his face, even as a small wooden tip appeared on the other side of his chest.

           

“You know,” Emmie said conversationally from behind him, “next time you try to kill a Slayer, you might want to make sure she’s really dead.” And then she let out a scream at the top of her lungs, a pre-arranged signal to alert Wes and Gunn.

           

The minions went down easily, as all were disoriented from losing their leader and none were great fighters. Wes and Gunn came in with their teams after having picked off the vampires around the perimeter, and finished with the clean up. And then it was all over, and William was still numb with shock.

           

“Will,” a hand on his shoulder turned him to face Angel. “I’ve got to get Emmie to a hospital.” William nodded wordlessly. Now that the adrenalin had worn off, he couldn’t move. “Do you want to come along?”

           

When he received no answer, Angel looked over at Wes, who was also looking a little shell-shocked at the news of Ty’s death. “Stay with him. Where’s Buffy?”

           

Wesley shook his head. “I don’t know. She and Emmie went in together. I assume they must have split up for some reason.”

           

Angel nodded. “Gunn, see if you can find her. I doubt she needs any help, but check it out anyway.” He looked back at William, who was now kneeling on the floor where Ty’s ashes had fallen. He, too, would have to grieve, but he didn’t have time to fall apart now. He had to get Emmie to a hospital or risk losing her as well. He scooped her up in his arms and hoped that Buffy got back soon. William was going to need her. 

 

IX

 

“So what is this place again?” Buffy asked. She was trying to keep herself from drooling over William, who was wearing a dark blue suit and a light blue shirt. She still couldn’t believe how rarely he wore black anymore, though she had a sneaking suspicion that having been married had something to do with that.

           

“It’s Lorne’s,” William replied simply. “He set it up about a year ago, said he wanted to have something on the side, along with what he does with Wolfram & Hart.” He smiled at her. “It’s considered neutral territory, so demons and humans can drink side by side without violence.”

           

“That actually works?” Buffy asked skeptically.

           

“The handy anti-violence spell he has helps,” he replied.

           

Buffy could hardly believe her eyes when she walked in, and William was enjoying her reaction. The bar, or nightclub really, was tastefully decorated in bright colors. Along with the dim lighting, the décor gave it a festive feel. There was a live band on stage, but that was only the early entertainment. William knew that in a few hours, as drinks flowed, the karaoke would get underway. “There’s our table,” he murmured, directing her to a private booth where Fred and Wes were already sitting.

           

“Hello, Buffy,” Wes greeted her. “Glad you could make it.”

           

“It’s an interesting place,” Buffy replied, referring to the varied clientele rather than the club itself.

           

“Lorne’s is an experience,” Fred agreed. “He was really excited about you coming. I think he wanted to do a reading.”

           

“A reading?” Buffy’s eyebrows went up.

           

“Lorne reads auras,” Wes explained briefly. “While you sing.”

           

“I’m not singing,” Buffy said flatly.

           

William’s lips twitched. He’d said the same thing, and he’d been up on the stage before the night was out. Of course, he had stubbornly waited until after closing, so there wasn’t an audience. But he’d ended up singing. “Whatever you say, luv,” he agreed casually. “Do you want something to drink?”

           

“Sure, whatever he’s got on tap would be good,” Buffy said, watching fondly as he left.

           

“You’ve been good for him,” Wesley said quietly, surprising her.

           

“I’m sorry?”

           

Wes smiled. “You’ve been good for him. He’s happier with you around.”

           

“Now that he’s actually talking to you,” Fred clarified. “We’ve been trying to get him to go out for a while now, but he’s pretty focused on Ty. Not that that’s a bad thing,” she hastened to add. “Because we all love him. It just wasn’t that healthy.”

           

Buffy watched as he leaned against the bar, exchanging pleasantries with the bartender. “He’s different,” she admitted quietly. “More than I thought he was at first, you know. But it’s not bad. It’s like all the rough edges got smoothed out, and everything that wasn’t him isn’t there anymore. William doesn’t pretend like Spike did sometimes.”   

 

“William is probably one of the most genuine people I’ve ever known,” Wesley stated. “Even Angel, with all their history, likes him. Sometimes it’s more for Ty’s sake than anything else, but I believe they balance one another. And William, more than anyone, will tell him the truth. It can be quite refreshing.” And Wes’s lips twitched as he recalled one particularly pointed statement William had made. Something about taking his head out of his arse and ending his brooding. It had been vaguely reminiscent of Cordelia.

           

Buffy smiled. “Yeah, well, and some things never change.” Then William came back to the table with their drinks, and they all proceeded to talk, comparing the day’s events and other news.      

 

It turned out that the Slayer was just as stubborn as William, and when she did sing for Lorne it was without an audience. She never told anyone what he read for her that night. All William ever did know was that it made her happy, and she seemed at peace with it.

           

Buffy, for her part, never forgot Lorne’s words. “You’re on the right path, sweetheart,” he said. “I don’t get to tell people that very often, but you are. Stick with what you’re doing and you’ll get your heart’s desire, and I don’t think I need to tell you what that is.”

           

A good future, indeed.

 

X

 

How long William knelt on the floor next to his son’s ashes, he couldn’t say. But it seemed like forever. All he could think of was that he had failed in the worst possible way. His chief duty had been to protect Ty, and he had failed miserably. Tears burned his throat, but they wouldn’t come. He was frozen in a state of misery so deep that it didn’t seem as though it would ever get better. He would welcome death.

           

That was how Buffy found him when Gunn led her into the main storage room. Wesley started in surprise when he saw her, but she shook her head at him, warning him not to make a sound. She laid a gentle hand on William’s shoulder. “Look who I found.”

 

He turned slowly, as though he had aged fifty years in as many minutes. And then he blinked. “Ty?” he whispered.      

           

For his part, Ty didn’t wait. “Daddy.” The boy flung himself into William’s arms, breaking him out of his stasis.

           

“Ty?” William pushed him away roughly and ran his hands down his son’s body, checking for injuries at the same time he was checking to be sure he was real. “Oh, God, I thought I’d lost you.” He grabbed him to his chest tightly, as though he would never let go. “Buffy?” That one word held a thousand questions.

           

“I was checking out some of the other storage rooms when I heard a noise coming from the air ducts,” she explained. “I called out, and he popped out of one of the grates. We were on our way to meet you when we ran into Gunn, and he told us what had happened.” Her eyes held nothing but compassion. “How’s Emmie?”

 

“I—I don’t know,” he admitted, standing, Ty still in his arms. Ty didn’t seem to have any problems with being held. “Wes, do you—”

           

“I just called Angel to let him know,” Wesley replied, holding his cell phone away from his mouth. “He said Emmie’s going to be fine. The knife missed all the major organs, and the Slayer healing is already kicking in.”

           

“Good,” William said, finally setting Ty down. “What happened?”

           

Ty’s fear was rapidly diminishing as he realized that he was now safe and sound. His father’s presence was all he needed to know that the bad men were gone and weren’t coming back. As a result, he was bursting with excitement and news. “The bad men grabbed me at school, and I knew they weren’t good, but I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure.” Ty suddenly looked uncertain. “I’m sorry, Dad. ‘Cause you said to listen to my gut, but—”

           

“It’s fine,” William said quickly, giving him a reassuring hug. “What happened next?”

           

“They tied me up and put me in the closet, and I was really scared. But then I ‘membered what Buffy said about you bein’ a hero, and I thought about what Uncle Wes taught me, so I concentrated real hard and got out through the air ducts. And then I hid ‘cause I knew you’d come.” The last statement was made with such a complete and simple trust that William suddenly felt as though he would cry.

           

“Good thing Wesley taught you a bit, hey, Ty?” was all he managed past the lump in his throat. And then he released the boy long enough for him to give Wesley a hug.

           

“We should get both of you home,” Buffy said, shooting a meaningful look at Wes and Gunn, who immediately took the hint.

           

Wesley nodded. “I think I’ll go to the hospital and check on Emmie and Angel. From what he said, however, I imagine they’ll let her go home tonight.”

           

“Not if Angel has his way,” Gunn muttered, though not really loudly enough for anyone but Buffy to hear. She, too, had a suspicion that Angel wasn’t going to let the young Slayer out of his sight for a while. “Yeah, there’s some clean-up and debriefing to be done here. Why don’t you get Ty home, Will? You look like you could use some sleep yourself.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy was relieved when they got to William’s apartment. They’d stopped for burgers on the way home, Ty insisting on a milkshake to top it off. Of course, his father was happy to provide it, and the Slayer had the feeling that Ty was going to be getting whatever his little heart desired for quite some time to come.

           

In the end, however, Ty was able to get through about half his meal before he started to doze off at the table, his head drooping precariously towards his food. Without a word, William stood and picked him up, setting off for his son’s room. Buffy followed, equally silent, watching as the ex-vampire tenderly removed his shoes and socks, then his filthy t-shirt and jeans, replacing them with clean pajamas, and finally tucking him into bed. They stood that way for a long time, the man looking down at the child, she watching them both from the doorway with love on her face. 

           

What she felt for this man was the same, and yet so different than what she had felt for Spike. In many ways, all the old remnants of animosity had been purged by the intervening years, leaving nothing but the love she had felt for the vampire. But William was human, and a father, and while he obviously felt something for her, it wasn’t the burning passion Spike had displayed. This man had different priorities than the vampire had, and it felt right. Right, but different, since now it was she who was free from just about all other entanglements, and he who might hesitate because of other bonds that held him. One might say that she loved him more than he loved her at this point. Buffy could appreciate the irony. 

           

And yet as he turned towards her, she could see raw need written deep in his eyes, and she held out her hand to him. Buffy led him to the couch in the living room, where he could finally collapse in a delayed reaction of fear and averted grief. “How?” he whispered. “I saw it. I saw him kill Ty, and he had turned him—” He choked on the rest of his words, and Buffy pulled him to her, so that his head lay on her shoulder, and she rocked him as she would a child.

           

“Shhh,” she soothed. “It was an illusion, a glamor he used to make you think that. Race had probably planned to do exactly what he did, but because Ty managed to escape and hide, he couldn’t and ran out of time.”

           

“I failed him, Buffy. I was supposed to protect him.” William was trembling with exhaustion and emotion, but still the tears wouldn’t come. He was dry-eyed and aching with it.

           

Buffy remembered the night after she came back when he’d told her much the same thing. That he had failed her, and that every night, he saved her. She hadn’t said anything at the time. It was one of her many regrets now, that she hadn’t seen him for what he was then, in that moment. That she hadn’t told him that no, he hadn’t failed. That she hadn’t held him then, or let him hold her.

           

“You didn’t fail him,” she corrected. “William, you provided him with the strength and the knowledge and the example he needed to get himself out of trouble. Any other kid would have probably panicked.”

           

He shook his head, unwilling to accept her absolution. “Erin was wrong,” he said hoarsely. “She thought I was the right one to raise him. She should have chosen someone else. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been in that mess in the first place.”

           

“And someone else wouldn’t understand about the visions,” Buffy said. “Look, Spike, I know you’re upset and angry that someone was able to grab him. And I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see him die, whether it actually happened or not, but you’re the reason he’s alive right now. You were the one that brought him to Angel and Wesley and the others. And what they taught him helped keep him alive too.”

           

“Buffy—”

           

“No,” she said, almost angrily, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look her in the eye. “You are the right man for the job, Spike. You’re his father. You’re the person he trusts more than anyone else in the world. I think Erin was a very wise woman to know that you would love him so much you’d give your all for him, because you always have. I know this. I watched you do it. And I believe in you.” 

           

It was as if those words were a key to unlock a door long-shut. He shuddered as the memories began their assault on him, as he remembered his childhood in England, his mother, Cecily, her rejection, being turned. He remembered Drusilla and Angelus and Darla, cutting a swath of mayhem and blood across Europe, killing his first Slayer in China and his second in New York, and all the years in between. He remembered Sunnydale, and Buffy, and trying to kill her and failing miserably, only to wind up in a wheelchair before helping to save the world.

           

He remembered coming back time and again, only to wind up with a chip in his head. And he remembered Adam and Glory. He remembered his love and his promise, and his passion for Buffy swept through him again as it had on that morning he’d had his (first) dream of her and realized what he felt. He remembered the agony of her death and the joy of her return, and he remembered their friendship and the sex and the casual brutality that they’d shared.

           

And he remembered the final night in her bathroom, and going to Africa, and getting his soul. Memories of that year, of which he’d never dreamed flooded him so that he almost thought he was going insane again. He had been insane, and then a pawn, and then an ally, and then a friend in a dizzying succession, so that at the end he had doubted her words.

           

Most of all, he remembered the cave, and the great beams of light that exploded from his soul, and he had been cleansed. He had been light, and the beauty of it eclipsed the pain of the burning and then he had been—

           

There. No time, no sense of need or urgency anymore. There had been nothing but a feeling of fulfillment, of being finished. Of having done everything that he was meant to do. In fact, he simply was.

           

And it was really rather nice. 

           

Until the voice—

           

_William_ _._

_?_

_William. You are needed._

_?!_

_Will you go?_

_The William-who-was considered the request, trying to remember what might be so urgent as to call him from this place. He was finished, he had—he had saved the girl. Had saved the world, not to put too fine a point on it. Finally he came up with the only possible reason he might be tempted to return._

_Buffy?_

_There was some amusement in the answer he got._

_No. A boy._

_He saw him. A laughing boy with dark hair and blue eyes._

_Our tool needs a guardian. Will you go?_

_He paused. To go back meant to be unfinished, to hurt, to grieve, to be guilty. Even here, he remembered that there had been shame and rejection and embarrassment. Not even Buffy could call him back to that. Except, to be needed and not go denied some vital part of him. Something that still existed inside of the essence of himself._

_You are forgiven, William._

_There was an infinite amount of compassion and love in that voice. Love so deep that there was no end to it, and it swallowed up his fear._

_I will go._

_And then, as an afterthought._

_Buffy?_

_In time. But for now, go absolved, cleansed, whole. Go, loved._

           

And then he had been on a street in October, in ragged clothes with no memory of who he was or how he had gotten there, except that he was William, and Spike was dead, and he had to save the girl. The girl who was about to get eaten by monsters.

           

He remembered.

           

“Spike!” Buffy’s frantic voice cut through the haze of memories. “William! Are you okay?”

           

He blinked several times and looked at her, realizing with a sense of awe how much he loved her. “Buffy?”

           

“Thank God,” she murmured. “I thought I’d lost you there for a second. You stopped breathing, and I couldn’t figure out what had happened.”

           

He didn’t reply to her words, merely put a hand up to her cheek and stared into her eyes. “Buffy.”

           

It was something in his tone that stopped her, something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Spike?” she whispered, hope evident in her tone, in every line of her posture. “You remember?”

           

“Everything,” he replied. “I remember everything.” A look of astonishment crossed his face. “I was—Chosen, Buffy. For Ty. That’s why I came back, for him. And I was forgiven.” The overwhelming knowledge of it all, the sense of all the holes being filled came crashing down on him, and he finally wept. The man who had been Spike and William and was now something in between wept with joy and sorrow combined, not even realizing that the woman who held him was crying as well.

           

“I love you,” he said, when he pulled back, looking into her eyes that now returned the same love he felt. “I love you so much.” 

           

“I love you.” Buffy ran a hand over his face, his hair, his neck, remembering every curve and plane, reveling in the sheer beauty of it all. And then she smiled. “But I swear, if you ever, ever die on me again, I will so kick your ass.”

           

And William laughed, then proceeded to show her just how alive he really was.

 

Epilogue

 

“This is ridiculous, you know that right?” Spike asked from his position on their bed, watching Buffy put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup in the master bathroom. She made no reply, having heard this particular argument a hundred times before. “I mean, I go to Africa in the cargo hold of a bloody ship, by myself, win my soul back and then make my own solitary way back to Sunnyhell half-crazy.” Spike was just warming up at this point.

           

“The poof, on the other hand, goes already souled, in first class, gets his soul anchored, and has himself some honeymoon time in the wilds of Africa with his girlfriend. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, minding the farm. And he’s the one who gets the party. Tell me it isn’t ridiculous, luv.”

           

Buffy gave her lover a fond smile. She knew very well that Spike didn’t begrudge Angel or Emmie their happiness, but with the return of his memories, he had become much more Spike-like. Not mean or evil by any means, but sarcasm was definitely a service he offered now. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A large part of it was probably to mask how much he had missed them both, and how much he didn’t like being in charge of Wolfram & Hart, since it left him very much unable to do his own thing.

           

“This is also a ‘good-bye, Angelus’ party, Spike,” she reminded him. “And I think I speak for everyone when I say good riddance.”

           

He sighed, and gave her a reluctant smile, his expression sweet. “You don’t need to remind me, pet. It’s just—”

           

“Honey, I think we all know that of the two journeys made to Africa, yours was the more heroic.” Buffy grinned at him, half-teasing, half-serious, and his look turned sheepish.

           

“You know me too well, luv,” he said. “You about ready, then?”

           

She stood and looked him over. He’d started wearing a little more black, but not so much that she’d had to say anything to him about it. And she knew he was trying desperately to find some kind of balance between what he had been and what he was, and as she knew, that was never easy. “Sure, let’s go.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Ty took off the minute they got to the hall Angel had rented for the occasion. And to be fair to Angel, the gathering wasn’t all about the fact that he’d just gotten his soul anchored. It was also a chance for a reunion of sorts for Buffy’s old gang, and Angel’s relatively new one. The presence of the former was what was truly making Spike itchy. Having Buffy and Dawn back in his life was a completely different story than seeing the rest of them. While he’d made a peace with Willow, and reconnected with her on a superficial level at least, he’d never had a true bond of any sort with the rest of them. It felt odd digging up that part of his past. But he knew Buffy was looking forward to it, so he hid his nervousness behind sarcasm and snarky comments about Angel’s posh trip to Africa.

           

Spike watched his son fondly as he ran up to Dawn and Wesley, chattering excitedly about learning Latin and having his first real lesson in magic with Willow. They had made the difficult decision to pull him out of public school for the time being, letting him take lessons with Wes and Fred, with additional subjects in magic and fighting skills with Willow, Angel, and him. Both he and Buffy had decided it was safer that way, and the Slayer had assured him that she would call him on it if it looked as though he were smothering his son. Later, when he was better able to take care of himself, there would be opportunity enough to put him back in the school system.

           

He watched as Buffy made her way over to a dark-haired man with an eye patch, and he knew it to be Xander. However, he wasn’t quite ready to throw himself into the lion’s den yet, so he made his way over to Wesley and Fred, Dawn having deserted them to join Buffy.

           

“That’s enough of that, Ty,” Spike said gently. “I’m sure your Uncle Wes has heard enough about your lesson with the witch.”

           

“I don’t mind really,” Wesley replied mildly. “Though I’ll bet Angel wouldn’t mind hearing about it.”

           

Ty’s eyes lit up. “Uncle Angel? Where?”

           

Wes pointed to one side of the room where Angel stood with Emmie and gave the boy a gentle shove. Ty was off like a shot, having had very little opportunity to spend time with Angel or Emmie since they’d gotten back a week before. “It’s good to have them back,” Wes said, and Spike could read the emotion in the other man’s words, even though little actually showed on his face.

           

“It seemed weird without him here,” Fred agreed. Though she quickly hastened to add, “Not that you weren’t doing a great job, William.”

           

Spike smiled at her. He genuinely liked Fred. They tended to get on quite well. “Don’t tell anyone I said it, but it’s nice to have the old man back,” he admitted. “Was getting a bit tired of being in the driver’s seat. Too much responsibility.”

           

Wes resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the other man meant it left him much less time for fun with Buffy and his son. “Well, I must tell you that Ty is doing quite well. I knew he was bright, but he’s really like a sponge.”

           

Spike smiled proudly. “No surprise here.” Then, more seriously, he went on. “Have to thank you, Wes. I don’t think I got the chance really before, but if you hadn’t taught Ty those tricks…”

           

“We all love him, Will,” Wesley reminded him gently. “As I believe I’ve mentioned before.”

           

“Yeah, well, thanks.” The two men looked one another in the eye, and Wesley nodded. Spike suddenly broke out in a grin. “You know Man U’s playing Spain in a couple days. You up for a bit of footie then?”

           

Wes returned the grin. “Of course.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy was grabbed into a bear hug by Xander, and they were soon joined by Willow. “Wow, it’s good to see my two favorite girls again,” he exclaimed. “It’s been way too long.”

           

“I’m not your favorite?” Dawn asked from behind him, and he turned to embrace her as well.

           

“Okay, so make that my three favorite girls.” They all laughed. Xander was looking good in a nice suit and tie. He’d done well for himself in the construction business, even with an eye gone. With his experience as a supervisor, he’d managed to move up the ranks quickly, and then begin his own business where he was doing much less of the work and much more of the ordering about.

           

“I thought you were bringing someone,” Buffy said, peeking behind him to see if he had his date hidden.

           

“Nah,” he replied. “I thought it would be nice to see everybody myself. And besides, it’s a little hard to discuss old times with a stranger around.”

           

“So she doesn’t know about Sunnydale?” Willow asked with some surprise.

           

“She doesn’t know the truth about Sunnydale,” Xander said. “And believe me, I would like to keep it that way. There is weirdness that doesn’t need to be explored.” Xander looked around the room. “I thought Giles was going to be here.”

           

“Tomorrow,” Buffy replied. “Something came up while he was in England and he had to postpone his flight. But he’s really looking forward to seeing everybody. At least, that’s what he told us to say.”

           

Xander shrugged. “Well, since he’s the head of the Council now, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” There was some hesitation in his voice when he asked, “And what about Spike?”

           

Buffy stepped aside and pointed. Her boyfriend was talking to Angel and Emmie now, with Fred, Wes, and Gunn standing around in a loose semi-circle. The vampire was holding Ty on one hip, and the boy had his head resting on Angel’s shoulder. An unbidden smile came to the Slayer’s lips as she watched them. Really, they were all part of her family now, and that knowledge kindled something inside of her.

           

“Wow,” Xander said again. “I can’t believe he’s actually alive. And the kid?”  
           

“Ty’s his,” Buffy said, and she and Dawn shared a look. Ty was hers now too. “You should come say hello. He’s really a pretty special kid.”

           

Just then Spike turned his head to look at the Slayer, and their eyes met from across the room. There was a wholeness there that had been missing for a long time for them both. A sense of shared family and connection that they’d never had before. It seemed for both of them that all the pieces were finally falling into place. And best of all, they were happy.


End file.
